Grey
by NaomiSales
Summary: In a world where we must have the depths of night and day, yin and yang, and good or bad, we should be able to choose between the two through our own free will. But what do you do when you generally never learned to distinguish the difference between black and white and all you see is grey. Serial Killer!Quinn Faberry Brittana
1. Chapter 1

Summary:

In a world where we must have the depths of night and day, yin and yang, and good or bad, we should be able to choose between the two through our own free will. But what do you do when you generally never learned to distinguish the difference between white and black and all you see is grey. Follow Quinn Fabray in her struggle to choose between love and hate, dark and light, and lastly life or death.

**Chapter 1 **

**Quinn's Pov**

**Freshmen Year **

If you ever see something, look twice before you turn away. What you're seeing can be a deception created by the people around you and the mind inside you. What you think you know and what you actually known differ so much more then you can imagine. The mind is a powerful thing, but it's useless when it's accustomed to its tormentors. I use to believe Santana understood this. The fiery Latina had backbone. Even Coach Sylvester knew Santana couldn't be trusted and for this reason alone she never really stood at the top for too long. It seemed that she could smell the fear off of anybody within a five-mile radius. She gave off the illusion that she was a heartless lioness and that everyone around her where pathetic gazelles waiting to be preyed upon. But even the most vicious animals, such as the lioness, finds a purpose to kill. Santana hunted for survival. She had one thing that made her act the way she did. If Santana was the lioness then Brittany was her helpless cub. The air-headed blonde wasn't as dumb as most presumed. She had a few tricks up her sleeve (one of them being Santana of course). I wouldn't say I was a genius, but I was highly intelligent for my age, and like Brittany I knew it was better to keep Santana as a friend then as a foe. Santana wasn't stupid either and knew better then to deny any friendship that I had to offer, especially since all of it was a pathetic charade to create more leverage in high school.

And so that's how we stood. The unholy trinity. The unbreakable threesome that held on to pity things like high school titles, such as head cheerleader and prom queen, these pity things that we kept in a vast attempt to keep our lives in high school afloat while everyone else's sunk to the bottom. I believe Santana could have had it easier if Brittany wasn't around, but unfortunately for her she claimed to be in love. She claimed that the person that everyone saw at school was a shield. She created a person, whom she became out of habit, that kept her true self 'safe'. She became a shield that protected herself, but most importantly a shield that protected Brittany. Every day at exactly seven o'clock she would enter the halls of William Mckinley High wearing her red and white cheerios uniform and a glare that could make freshman flea and teachers flinch. Her white sneakers squeaked as they traveled across the equally white polished floors, and all the while doing so still managing to keep her shoulders held back and her head held high. Santana Lopez used her uniform as a body guard. When the soft fabric of the cheerios uniform meet her soft tan skin she no longer identified herself as herself, but rather as a bitchy version of herself. A crueler version of herself that she knew would protect her and Brittany. I guess that was one of the things Santana and I differed in greatly. I was just as cruel as Santana, probably more so to be honest, but I didn't need a reason to be. I had no one to protect, not even myself. Santana looked at people like prey because she knew if she didn't they would look at her like prey, but I looked at people like prey because that's all they were to me. In other words I guess Santana gave her inner lion a reason to hunt, while I had no reason. I was hunting and killing gazelle without reason. It wasn't for a means of living or survival like most people might have assumed, it was simply because I wanted to.

Santana on the other hand was a little more… admirable with her actions. She didn't hurt people unless they posed a possible threat. I even caught her showing sympathy every now and then. There was 'admirable' Santana, 'bitchy' Santana, and 'Brittany' Santana. 'Brittany' Santana was more careful with her words and less bitter towards everything and everyone. She would stay close to Brittany, read to Brittany, sing with Brittany, dance with Brittany, laugh with Brittany, and oddly enough kiss Brittany. I didn't understand it. I didn't understand their connection to each other. Their love for each other was ever so bizarre to me. Santana with Brittany was completely different then Santana with me, Finn, Puck, Sam, and especially someone like Berry who she hated more than early morning cheer practice (and that's saying something). They seemed genuinely thankful to be around each other. The only person I was ever thankful for being around was myself. I was the creator of all my accomplishments and achievements why shouldn't I be thankful for my strengths and willingness? I didn't understand why they wanted each other. They were so off putting together. Santana could be so ruthless and witty and…well…Brittany couldn't. What's more mind bogglingly was that they enjoyed each other's flaws and quirks, or at least they were okay with them and if they weren't they never showed it. Santana was okay with Brittany reading only below a fifth grade level and Brittany was okay with Santana sleeping around with the entire football team. How can that be possible? How does that not bother them? It bothers me all the time and I'm not even in the damn 'relationship'. Then again I don't know Brittany that well. Santana tries to keep her away from me most of the time afraid I'll pollute her brain. Brittany, along with Santana, walks with me everywhere, but Santana makes sure that Brittany isn't alone with me, and to be honest I really don't blame her. Brittany is a 'friend' in my book, but there's something about the tall blonde that makes me always want to take sudden precaution about what I'm doing, and I don't much like that.

**Freshmen year**

**Brittany pov**

San kept saying that high school was going to be different. She said that things change and so do people. I told her I didn't mind as long as she was with me. She was my closest friend and I knew that she would help me through high school (even if I knew deep down in my heart that I could do fine on my own). Santana knew I liked dancing and that I was really good at it, so she signed us up to be on the cheerios. When S made the team we meet Quinn. She was our cheerios captain, which made her head cheerio, and Coach Sylvester's favorite. Quinn was usually very mean to everyone except Coach Sylvester. She would call people names and throw slushies at them for no reason sometimes. Santana said that she only did that to seem tough because she was head cheerio.

"She's suppose to be mean Britt, that's what she's there for," Santana told me as we waited in the lunch line at the cafeteria.

It's not that I didn't like Quinn it's just that when she was mean San had to be mean too. I didn't like it when Santana was mean. I knew she did it so no one would bother her, but that doesn't mean she enjoyed it. Quinn on the other hand seemed to enjoy hurting people. Especially kids like Rachel Berry. We didn't understand why she didn't like Rachel, and we never really asked.

"That doesn't mean that she has to be mean all the time," I reasoned.

Santana pushed the kids in front of us so we didn't have to wait anymore. As we cut in front of the other students Quinn sprinted towards us from the other side of the cafeteria.

"Hey guys, thanks for saving me a spot in line," she said as she cut in front of us.

Santana rolled her eyes, but let her cut anyway. I was confused. Why didn't she just explain to Quinn that she didn't mean to save her a spot in the lunch line? It was an honest mistake.

"Quinn I don't think Santana saved you a spot," I told her truthfully.

She turned her attention to me. Her eyes looked really pretty, a nice gold color, but the way she was staring at me was making me a little scared. Santana moved in front of me leaving no space between Quinn and I.

"Brittany I know that you're a little slower and therefore stupider then the rest of us, but even you know that Santana saved this spot for me whether she wanted to or not," she told me in a low voice.

I looked down at my sneakers because I felt embarrassed. Quinn made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and I didn't like to feel stupid. I felt the burning behind my eyes, and the quiver of my chin indicating that I wanted to cry.

_Not here. Santana wouldn't like it if you cried. Don't cry here._

The sound of Santana's voice made me look up again.

"Listen Fabray, you can talk to your boyfriend like that, you can talk to the rest of your squad like that, and you can even talk to me like that, but you can't talk to Brittany like that. And I mean ever. I know high school is just a board game for you and me, but Brittany is off limits."

She grabbed my hand and led us out of the lunch line. Quinn didn't move an inch and her eyes followed us as we left the cafeteria.

"Why are we friends with her San," I asked genuinely confused.

"Because Fabray's cool to these idiot people."

_I think she means cold. _

"And if we don't want people messing with us we have to play along," she said a little ashamed.

"Don't listen to her, Britt. She's got her own shit to deal with, and while she's being her we'll be us. And if anyone ever says stuff like that to you just tell me and I'll deal with it okay," she told me in serious tone.

I nodded my head. I knew Santana didn't like Quinn now. Not after calling me stupid.

"Soon you won't have to deal with her anymore. Next year I'll make head cheerio."

"San, I thought you didn't want to be head cheerio?"

"After what she did today, I don't think she deserves to think that she runs this school. It's just the right thing to do to throw her off her high horse."

"Quinn doesn't have a horse, San."

She smiled as she linked our pinkies together and continued to walk around the school's hallways.

**Rachel's Pov**

**Freshmen Year **

Even if I have amazing skills, like tap dancing while singing at F sharp, I can't seem to get lucky in high school. I've only gone through three class periods before getting slushied. It never gets easier to attempt to get the slushy out of your eyes and hair. It's absolutely humiliating to get slushied in front of the whole student body. It's even worse if there's a cute boy watching from the sidelines.

I draped the wet paper towel I currently had in my hand over my face one more time trying to get the sticky feeling, that the sugar filled drink causes, to go away. My father, Hiram Berry, always says that people pick on others because it's high school and their immature and don't realize their actions completely. "It's either that or they're in love with you," he usually says before laughing lightly to himself. I really didn't care what their reasons were for being so cruel I just wanted it to stop. It was completely unreasonable to do this to someone no matter how much more talented and intelligent they were to you. It really wasn't my fault if I had talent and wanted to show it. After all you never know whose watching. I grabbed my spare clothes, which I now carried every day knowing that the clothes I would usually wear when leaving the house would get ruined, out of my backpack and walked into an unused stall.

I locked the stall door and proceeded to take off the sweater vest I was currently wearing and switching it to the sweater I had in my backpack.

_Great, they got my favorite owl sweater. They even hit me with a blue slushy which is going to make this ten times harder to get out. _

As I put the clean sweater over my head I heard the bathroom door open and close loudly. I looked through the cracks of the bathroom stall and saw blurs of red cheerios uniforms. I looked down and saw two pairs of white sneakers squeaking against the bathroom tiles. I instantly panicked because I knew cheerios were unpredictable and that they probably had an extra slushy for me, but the problem was that I didn't have extra clothes to change into if these got ruined. Thanks to my petit size I was able to climb on top of the toilet seat to hide my feet from their view without a sound. They were advancing each other in their own conversation to even notice the difference. I stayed clear of the cracks between the stall door to avoid exposure.

"So did Berry get slushied or what," one of the cheerios asked.

"Yeah the new running back for the football team did it. I think his names Noah," another one answered.

Small laughter erupted around their conversation. The blood rushed to my face instantly making my face feel hot.

"She so deserved it San. She reminded Mr. Shuster about the Spanish homework that no one did. Including me," the unknown cheerio huffed in annoyance.

_Well of course I was going to remind him. The more assignments we turn in the more leverage we have with our grades and grade point averages at the end of the semester. _

I wonder what cheerio this was. I had several cheerios in my Spanish class and they all disliked me.

"Let's get out of here I don't want to be late for Geometry again," mystery cheerio girl said as her sneakers disappeared from my view and I heard the door open and close again.

I got down from the toilet seat and straightened out my skirt. I smoothed out my hair and slugged my backpack over my shoulders. I got out of the bathroom stall and did an overview in the mirror before leaving the bathroom and headed to Geometry. It was ironic that this cheerio and me had two classes together. Too bad for her there was only three cheerios that share Geometry and Spanish with me and one of them happened to be absent today leaving two more suspects, Brittany Pierce and Quinn Fabray. Since everyone knew that Brittany Pierce wouldn't hurt a fly the last suspected was none other than head cheerleader Quinn Fabray.

_What a disaster. It's not my fault if you weren't as prompt with your studies as me Miss Fabray. If I could I would use my extensive vocabulary to talk some sense into that girl, but there's always the fear of bearing the wrath of Coach Sylvester and her entire squad if I messed with her head cheerio. _

Walking through the now empty hallway I was seeing red. I proceeded to walk to Geometry when I saw a flyer with a quote that said "**Have the maturity to know that sometimes silence is more powerful than having the last word"**. Then I thought of how tired I suddenly felt. Is it really worth it to be the bigger person all the time. Then I thought of what my father said, "It's either that or they're in love with you."

_Perhaps these oppressors admire that I am the bigger person. Maybe they love the fact that it is possible to be someone like me. If you're secretly winning in the end, then what is there to frown about?_

I held my head high with a smile on my face as I walked into Geometry four minutes late.

**Freshmen year **

**Santana's Pov**

"Brittany there are some very very mean people in this world," I spoke softly to my best friend as we looked through our American History books.

She looked up at me with confusion and sadness in her eyes before bowing her head and nodding. God I hated that we had to cover World War II in American History this year. It was completely unfair that Brittany had to find out about things like this. She became less bubbly ever since we started the section in the book that talked about the Holocaust.

"But why though," she asked me.

Why are people mean? And what makes them very very mean? I really didn't know how to explain it. Most people would say that Hitler went crazy on everyone because he was power hungry, and to be honest with you that's a good way to explain it…just not to Brittany. I'm always talking about making head cheerio to her and how 'running the school' will make it easier for the both of us. I sometimes use it as an excuse when I have to explain why I threw a slushy at someone that day. I don't want her to think I'm like Hitler. If I tell her that he was mean because he was power hungry she might think bad of my power hunger. Well I guess our power hunger differs greatly. I only want to be head cheerio because Brittany will be my second in command guaranteeing that she would be safe from everyone else. It's not like I'm trying to overtake Europe.

"I'm not sure Britt. Some people do it for money and other people do it for other reasons," I finished lamely.

She looked back down at the book in confusion.

_God the teacher that assigned us this is so gonna find gum in his chair tomorrow I swear. _

"But listen B, for every mean person in this world there's like a thousand more good people to stop them from doing bad things," I said trying to cheer her up.

"Like you?"

_Oh wow that was unexpected. _

I've been called a lot of things by a lot of people. Being 'good' was never one of them.

"Yeah Britt…like me."

I didn't like lying to Brittany, but she already looked torn apart for knowing that people did this stuff for no good reason. People are monsters I knew that, but Brittany didn't. Besides, the way I see it if someone in the duo knows something the other doesn't then it's basically like they both know it.

"You didn't sound like you meant it, San."

Then again I can never lie to Brittany. She can call my bullshit from a mile away. She's really the only person that knows me well enough to know when I'm being genuine or not. But when stuff like this comes up what I'm supposed to say?

"You're a good person San. Even if you don't think so. You're not lying to me, you're lying to yourself."

Brittany always tends to say the right things. That's one of her many great qualities. And even if she wasn't that good at school it didn't mean that she was dumb. Brittany knew about things from people that no else could have thought of. She's absolutely brilliant when it comes to kids and animals. Maybe that doesn't mean a lot to teachers or colleges, but it meant a lot to someone like me. Kids were difficult with me and I never had a pet (except for the occasional goldfish). It was just like how I tried to explain before, "if someone in the duo knows something that the other doesn't then it's basically like they both know it". I like to think Brittany knew about life by living and I knew about life by reading.

I was tactical, she was frank. I was red, she was blue. I was yin she was yang. But most importantly she was good and I was bad. She was nice and I was mean.

_That's a good loophole._

If Brittany was good then I had to be good in some way so technically I won't be lying if I answer her question the way she wants me to.

"I'm sorry B, it's just… sometimes I don't necessarily do good things, but your right, stuff like that doesn't make me a bad person," I told her honestly.

"And you promise to always know that," she egged on.

_Okay _I _can't promise her that, but I could promise her something similar. _

"I'll do you one better Britt, how about I promise that I'll always try to be the voice of reason when things get crazy. I promise to never do any injustice to any two… or four legged creature and to help any two or four legged creature that goes through injustice."

_If Brittany was good then I could be good in some way. _

She smiled at me and I closed our textbooks calling a snack break.

"San?"

"Yeah?"

"What's injustice?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Junior year **

**Santana's Pov **

Glee club was the best part of my day. No doubt about it. With Mr. Schuester as a coach, and all these dorks, I now call friends, around me; glee club became more of a getaway rather than an extracurricular activity. Sometimes I wouldn't even participate during practices and instead just play with Brittany's hair. Glee club had its up's and down's. On the up side, every time we had to do duets I had an excuse to be close to Brittany. On the down side the hobbit, aka Rachel Berry, would complain about me rigging the outcome for our 'random' duet partners. Of course she was wrong and just yapped endlessly into oblivion while no one really paid attention. I never rigged the outcomes, Quinn did. For some odd reason the 'sorting hat', as Brittany liked to call it, was Quinn's way of finding her new man candy for that particular week. It was simple really. She would rig me and Britts together and she would rig herself with whomever she saw worth it that week. Sometimes it was Finnessa other times trouty mouth…never the same guy in that same month and never ever Puck. I'm not sure why she did it. She never really puts out anyway so how does she expect them to stick around? Quinnie was weird that way. I learned to never ask and never tell when it came to her. That rule applies a lot when it comes to Quinn. Like when she insists we run three more laps after finishing a set of ten, or when she purposely rigs the 'sorting hat' to put her and man hands together for duet partners. I have to say if she's doing it to make Berry uncomfortable mission accomplished. The look she had on her face when Quinn extracted her hand from the 'sorting hat' and read the name' Rachel' in a loud cold voice was priceless. But this is Quinn Fabray we're talking about. If she's planning something she doesn't do it half-assed, especially if it involves Rachel Berry being humiliated. In a matter of seconds the choir room went from completely comfortable to incredibly awkward. The room was engulfed in an uneasy unending silence. I could literally hear that idiot Finn breathing and it was irking me to no end. On my right side I had Brittany leaning against me suddenly confused on why the atmosphere around us became tense. Quinn stood In the middle of the choir room by the piano looking at Rachel making her squirm in her seat. After that she coolly sat back down where she was before and the next thing you know Tina was choosing a piece of paper out of the 'sorting hat'. I didn't pay much attention to the rest of the practice. I saw Quinn sitting in the front row next to Artie and Mercedes and wondering why on Earth would she want to be paired up with the hobbit. Then I remembered my most important rule; don't ask, don't tell.

"Seriously, for the last time Yentle, I didn't rig the stupid hat. Do you not realize how much crap I would have to take from Quinn if she suspected I paired you two together," I said with a huff as I slammed my locker and made my way through the crowded hallway. I saw Brittany waiting for me down the hall and I picked up the pace of my walking trying to get to her quicker and attempting to get rid Berry whom just happened to trail right behind me.

"Oh please, it's against the laws of probability to get Brittany as your duet partner four times in a row Santana. If you didn't mess with the hat who did?"

For a midget Berry had pipes on her. Unfortunately her loud personality wasn't liked by most (especially me). I was able to put up with her and her nonsense, but only because I liked glee and because Brittany found Rachel likable at times.

"Don't you have something to do Berry," I snapped completely losing whatever self-control I had managed to hold on to.

Her mouth opened for a fraction of a second and I groaned inwardly expecting for more of her talking, but to my surprise Quinn came to the rescue.

"Rachel."

"Quinn?"

"Listen, how about we work on the duet during lunch I'm not gonna have time to do it this Friday."

Berry looked completely taken back by the sudden change of plans. Quinn looked at me and Britt and quickly but discreetly motioned us to leave. I didn't waste any time as I grabbed Britt's hand and moved us through the sea of people.

"Looks like we owe Q," I said while Brittany held on to my hand.

"No I think Quinn owes us."

Even if sometimes I don't understand what Brittany means when she says things I never disregarded it. Sometimes I blow it off, but I would always think about it later. In the back of my head I knew that one way or another Brittany was always right about the strangest things, and that her words held more wisdom in them then people would suspect.

**Junior year**

**Rachel's pov **

Sometimes I don't understand how I can be around so many people that generally annoy me and that generally are annoyed by me. I don't understand how they can all be so closed minded and unprepared for their future. I think about Lima and how it's a dead end to all of the possibilities that the world can offer me. Every minute I spent here is another minute wasted on future opportunities. I knew that if I kept my hard work ethic within everything that I did then I would have an excellent chance of leaving Ohio and moving on with my life in New York. It was a dream of my since I was a young girl. I wanted to live my life perfectly in New York, performing on Broadway, and being able to show my high school tyrants the perfect version of Rachel Berry. The successful version. Since freshmen year I've been oppressed for my unique sense of fashion, my diva attitude, and my, what some might call, over charismatic personality. Almost everyone at school has had a laugh about me. Even my closest friends, Mercedes and Kurt, will occasionally mock me and even turn on me when the waters get rough on my side of the bay. It wasn't easy being different-being better- but, I still believe that this is the plan drawn out for me. Every slushy, every joke, and every one of Santana's sarcastic remarks were all in my favor. Their laughter only egged me on. The way I see it, it was almost better not to have anyone to close to me. If I had no one then I had no one to lose. The only person I really didn't mind taking with me through my successful life and career was Finn. The tall boy with his goofy grin and easy going personality made my heart throb and knees weak. Even if he sometimes ignored my rants zooning out, or suggested watching 'The Sopranos' over 'Funny Girl', I still loved him (or deeply cared for him). Although Finn was sometimes careless, like I assume all teenage boys were, he still sticks up for me and shows that he cares (which is more than Kurt or Mercedes ever did for me and I've known them longer). Although Finn makes me feel good about myself he also brings out my worst insecurities. Before me Finn did date Quinn Fabray when she was at the prime of her high school career, and he slept with Santana when we had taken a short break from each other the year after. Sometimes I wonder if I'm any good for Finn. I'm not as pretty or as perfect as Quinn and I'm not as seductive as Santana. To be honest the only other thing that scares me more then not making it on Broadway is losing him to someone like them. Someone better. If I'm not good enough for Finn, then how can I be good enough for anybody else? How can I prepare myself for Broadway when I'm lacking in self-confidence. The performer must own the stage and use it to her liking. The performer must be able to take the stage and the character and create a masterpiece in the way she sees best. It's something that Santana and Quinn could do effortlessly. It's something that makes me think. I know Santana isn't so much as a threat. She doesn't like me and she absolutely finds Finn annoying beyond belief, but she isn't heartless. She herself knows what it feels like to have a broken heart and she wouldn't jeopardize two people in love. She told me so herself when I confronted her for bullying Finn on his weight.

"Santana you need to stop mocking Finn for his weight he is actually of average weight for a boy his height," I said looking up at the annoyed Latin. She rolled her eyes before closing her locker and making her way to the choir room. As I followed her in the classroom I noticed that no one was there.

"Listen Berry, I know I can be a bitch sometimes, but it isn't my fault if your boyfriend resembles the Pillsbury Dough Boy," she said casually as she sat down on one of the empty chairs in the back of the room.

I huffed in annoyance.

"Why are you so cruel to him, Santana? He never did anything to you."

She sighed and looked at me for the first time since arriving in the classroom. I saw some sincerity in her eyes for a change and it threw me off.

"Look Ber…Rachel, I cope with things differently than other people."

_You're telling me. _

"After messing with you for so long I got tired, lazy even."

_Where on earth are you going with this?_

"In other words it seems that I've outgrown you. I don't feel the need to be a complete bitch to you and try to make your every move as miserable as possible."

I still didn't understand what she was trying to say. I guess she read my confusion because she continued.

"Listen the slushies are completely gone by now and I don't laugh and point at you as often anymore. With some more time it will go away, but I'm coping with that right now so just let it be. The things I say to Finn and you occasionally are just that, occasional. Soon that won't even exist," she finished in a softer tone than what she started off with.

Then I grew a big smile on my face because I knew Santana was growing up. In her own special way she was calling a truce. She was tired of putting on a show and I didn't blame her. All she was asking for was time. She was in her own way a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly. She saw the smile on my face and put a glare on hers.

"So tell Frankateen to not get his panties in a wad and get over it," she finished halfheartedly. I nodded and bounced out of the choir room leaving her sitting by herself in the quiet room.

So I had proof that Santana had a heart and she was willing to show it every once in a while. The real threat was Quinn. She was always two steps ahead of everyone else and that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge.

**Quinn Pov **

**Junior year **

Outside of the walls of Mckinley I pretty much isolated myself. I was alone most of the time. I found the peace of isolation comfortably numbing. Santana and Brittany would invite me to places and I would make an appearance to be polite. That's what my mother taught me to do after all. To be polite and normal was key to getting what you wanted. Outside of these halls I was a shadow casted upon the world. Well, that's all of us really but I was one of the people that understood it and accepted it. I tended to stay in my mind more than in the world around me. Because of this I had a habit of analyzing everything people did. It was an annoying habit because it started to make things predictable. It started to make things dull and mind-numbing. People were no longer interesting and neither were their conversations. The only time things got interesting was when the unexpected was thrown upon us in such a fast haze that it was almost too quick to comprehend. Something as little as seeing Kurt get thrown at a locker or Santana being force to come out of the closet by Finn was enough to make my heart rate beat several times quicker. The pulsing of a quick heart beat was pleasurable for me.

It was so rare that it became my obsession to do it as much as possible. To achieve a beating heart that can quicken with excitement or fear was so bemusing to me. To have a sign that I had emotions that weren't void. The problem was that if I wasn't throwing Kurt at the locker or outing Santana then I didn't feel the contracting under my chest and above my wrist. I had to do the deed. I had to be the tormentor. It was the only thing that made everything less…numb. Being rude to a teacher or a student wasn't enough anymore. At first it satisfied me, but now my mind is accustomed to it. It was no longer exhilarating, but those types of things are habits and bad habits are hard to break so even if it doesn't give me my rush I still do it from time to time. No one in particular was safe from my line of fire. Not even Santana. Maybe Brittany, but that's only because she's Santana's liability and I can't trust myself to break her without breaking Santana as well. There were some people that were more interesting to intimate than others. Like Rachel Berry.

Rachel wasn't the only person that I tormented, but she was definitely my favorite. Rachel, like Santana, had a backbone. She didn't care if I threw slushies at her or that I was once the head cheerleader. She would still manage to yell at me and steal my boyfriend just to piss me off. My sick mind found that intriguing. The fact, alone, that she had the guts to yell at me made the hunt all the more exciting. I wanted to know what would really set her off. I wanted to test Rachel Berry to the point of no return. Watching Rachel Berry get caught off guard was my own personal guilty pleasure, but I can't even imagine what would happen if she lost it completely. To me that's Christmas. She was so much more different then everyone else. Even if I made her miserable she still wanted to like me. That alone said something about Rachel Berry. Even if I treated her in the worst possible way, at the end of the day, she still accepted my presence as a blessing, and that made my heart almost jump out of my chest. That's the only time it acts up like that. When she looks me in the eye and calls me her friend it is always so unexpected that I literally hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. Rachel Berry was so peculiar. So peculiar that she makes someone like me feel something other than numb. The only thing that makes my heart rate jolt was a series of unexpected events with unexpected turn-outs and every time I think Rachel Berry can help with that I never get disappointed.

"What song are we going to do for the duet," I asked Rachel as she brought out a series of sheet music to give to me.

"Well I was hoping we can choose together," She said as she sat down by her computer desk in her room.

I nodded looking through the sheets of music. The music that she handed me was unrecognizable. Most of the songs were new to me. I didn't know how to read music so I couldn't tell what cords were going to be played or how the songs might sound.

"I was hoping to get something we both liked. Maybe something that makes us both happy."

She smiled brightly as I sat down looking through the music over one more time.

"So what makes you happy, Quinn? What do you enjoy?"

I looked up at her and thought about it.

_What does make you happy? Have you ever even felt happiness before? How can I answer the question if I don't understand it? What would be a predictable answer? Something that she expects to hear from me. Something that she expects from the person that I make her see. I'm a cheerleader. Cheerleaders dance. I can like to dance. Dancing can make people happy. Or so that's what they say. _

"Well I think out of everything dancing is probably the easiest for me, so it's the most enjoyable," I lie through my teeth.

Her smile only widens as she searches through her sheet music and singles out a piece paper from the rest showing it to me. I grasp it and look through it while she explains the advantages we could have performing this song.

"It's perfect Quinn the song has an upbeat type of rhythm so we can dance to it with ease, and it fits your vocal range perfectly."

"Good idea Rachel."

After a whole afternoon of dancing and singing to the same song my eyelids started to grow heavy and it got harder and harder to keep them open as Rachel instructed my every move. She would sigh when I got the foot work wrong or if my voice got too high or too low. She demonstrated again and again what she wanted from me, but for some reason I wasn't picking up on it correctly.

_Maybe it's because she's a perfectionist and I'm doing everything good but she wants it better. _

Rachel suggested a water break after my failed attempt at matching pitch. She left her room and came back with two water bottles handing me one while releasing the cap off of hers. For a moment there was complete silence in her room as we both sat on her bed. She looked comfortable to be around me (that was a first). That's when I felt it. I felt what I'd be meaning to feel ever since I rigged that stupid hat. My heart started to pound in my chest in a smooth rhythm. She was reading the music from the paper as she drank water occasionally out of the water bottle placed within her tiny hands.

_She looks tired. Tired of me? Does that even matter? You got what you wanted; you felt something after weeks of feeling nothing you're as good as done here. How do I get out of this now? She looks tired. Maybe I can be tired too._

"Hey Rachel, I'm not sure I can go for another round. My legs hurt and I can barely keep my eyes open."

She looked remorseful for a second.

_Why remorseful?_

"I'm so sorry Quinn I should of thought of your needs as well as my own. I understand completely if you're willing to continue this session tomorrow because you can't today."

There it was again, the element of surprise being presented to me like a gourmet meal. My heart was hitting against my ribcage so hard that it was physically making me sick in the best way possible.

"I'll lead you out," she said as she led me to her driveway and bidding me farewell as I climbed in my car and drove away.

**Brittany's pov **

**Junior year **

"So how's it going with Rachel and the duet, Q?"

Quinn looked up from the magazine that she was reading before answering me.

"It's going okay Britt."

I offered her a small smile before I started concentrating on Santana's braid again. Quinn continued reading her magazine and Santana started fidgeting so I left her hair loose around her shoulders. Just then Lord Tubbington jumped on to my bed and rubbed himself along my leg. I scratched the spot between his ears and kissed him on top of the head as Santana moved to sit beside me. As Santana moved over to sit next to me, Lord Tubbington hissed at her before moving on to my lap. I turned to her sheepishly before she rested herself on the pillows behind us. Lord Tubbington and Santana never really got along. It started in sixth grade when Santana came over for the first time and meet Lord Tubbington and commented on his weight. He didn't appreciate it and scratched her arm. Santana cursed out Lord Tubbington and I kicked him out of my room because he hurt Santana and I really liked Santana. I helped clean her cut and put a Band-Aid on it before kissing it. Santana was confused on why I kissed her cut, but I told her that my mom did the same thing to me and my sister because it helps the pain go away faster. Her face got super red and I kissed her cheek because I thought that hurt too. She just got redder. After a week or two I forgave Lord Tubbington, but he never forgave Santana and Santana never forgave him.

"Brittany his literally mocking me," Santana said as she looked at Lord Tubbington lying on my lap.

I looked down at him and realized that he was just falling asleep.

"How can he do that? His right here and your over there," I told her honestly.

"That's why! I should be there and he should be here," she said tapping the pillow she was laying on.

Lord Tubbington purred like he usually does before he falls asleep.

"San, I would move, but he really needs his rest and his just about to fall asleep."

I really was sorry that I couldn't help Santana because she really looked like someone should be holding her hand. She sighed and gave Lord Tubbington the look that she usually gives to Rachel. Santana spoke to Quinn without dropping her gaze from Lord Tubbington.

"Hey Quinn, why don't you pretend you're gonna pet Tubbs over there, maybe then he'll scram."

Quinn turned her attention from the magazine, to Santana, and finally to my lap. I hugged him closer to me out of instinct. Lord Tubbington didn't like a lot of people like grandma and Santana, but he was never scared of people. The only person that Lord Tubbington would run away from in fear was Quinn. It took him forever to get comfortable being in the same room with Quinn and even then he didn't get to close and she never touched him. Quinn was indifferent with Lord Tubbington. She never got close to him and he never got close to her, they probably made a silent deal together. I knew Santana was joking, but Lord Tubbington doesn't know that. Quinn got off the bean bag she was sitting on and stalked towards me slowly. He quickly got off my lap and ran out of the room. That was another thing, Lord Tubbington doesn't run. Quinn smirked as Santana laughed.

"It works every time," she said as she was trying to catch her breath.

I leaned back onto the pillows Santana was lying on. While Santana turned on the TV in my room Quinn sat back down on the bean bag. Another hour passed before Quinn called it a night. Santana and I said goodbye before she drove out of my driveway. When we went back to my room Santana grabbed my hand and led me to the foot of the bed. She sat me down and leaned down to peck my lips lightly. Coming back up I grabbed her head and kissed her back with more passion.

"I'm gonna close the door," she said before turning back to shut the door.

As she put her hand on the doorknob Lord Tubbington wobbled into my room and jumped on my bed.

"No, wait! Get out cat! Go! Shoo!"

Santana yelled at him and waved her arms around trying to scare him off but Lord Tubbington didn't budge. She groaned and dropped herself onto the bed. She glared at him.

"Where's Quinn when you need her."

He just blinked at her and she just covered her face with a pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Senior Year **

**Quinn's Pov **

I guess I can say that I've always been impulsive. As much as I hate to admit it I don't believe that it's a bad thing. When I'm impulsive I make choices that most sane people wouldn't even have thought of. Most of these choices helped me be the perfect head cheerleader and perfect tormentor. In fact all the slushies and snarky remarks that I threw at people were almost always done out of impulse. I have the unfortunate tendency to do things to people when I get bored. Usually whoever is around me feels the side effects of my boredom more than they would have like to. I believe the whole school has probably seen what it's like when my mind and hands act on their own accord. I can't help it. To stop and think about the moment and the people who are in the moment takes too long. It's easier to just do and move on. I lost the title of head cheerio when I got pregnant in sophomore year and Santana made sure I never really got it back. By senior year I gave up on the title entirely. Yet, I still acted on impulse. It's still easier to not care. "Do you not feel anything anymore?" That was the last thing Finn Hudson said to me before he broke up with me. I thought about it every now and then.

_Do you not feel anymore Quinn? Be honest with yourself. Did you ever really feel anything at all? I honestly don't think so. And I honestly don't mind. _

Unlike Santana I didn't need a uniform to be somebody. All I needed was a drive to push me forward. All though I mostly feel void of emotions there are sometimes that I do feel frantic. I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but one day I felt more unnerved than usual. I felt like I was having a sugar rush of some kind. I was in school and I felt blinded by the sudden energy coursing through my body. Then I had the feeling to move around. The hallway felt to constricting even if it was empty. I walked around until I found the nearest girls restroom. In a haze I walked over to the farthest sink in sight and held myself against it. It was almost painful not to being doing something so I started to pace back and forth. My pulse was going crazy. My nerves were on edge and it seems that every part of my body was fidgeting. I ran my hand through my hair.

I'm not sure what caused it. Nothing like this has every happened before, or at least not this intensely, and it took me completely off guard. I liked the sudden feeling, but even this was too much for me to comprehend. I tried to calm down.

_Christ what on Earth caused this. I didn't see anything out of the norm today; or rather I didn't do anything out of the norm today. Nothing happened. Get a grip and move on, Quinn. _

And just like that my feet stopped pacing and my heart went back to a normal steady rhythm. I instantly brushed off what had happened to me and walked out of the restroom. And oddly enough Santana and Brittany were walking past the restroom I had just come out of. They were laughing about something together before they came to an abrupt stop in front of me.

"Hey Q, you alright," Santana asked as she unlinked pinkies with Brittany.

_Being alright in Webster's New Pocket Dictionary meant to be 'okay' or, in the adjectival sense, to be 'acceptable'. I believe I was acceptable at this moment. So yes, I was 'alright'. _

"I'm alright."

"Well at least we're still thinking straight. That stunt that Berry pulled back there was a disaster. I mean Finn Hudson of all people I'm I right," she said while turning to Brittany.

_Berry pulled a stunt? When did this happen? Being out of the loop was really pissing me off right now. _

"At least Finn's not gross, or too gross," Brittany said innocently.

Santana shrugged in indifference and looked back at me.

"What do you think, Q? Does this make Berry completely crazy or what," Santana asked me suddenly.

_How bad will it be if I wing my answer right now? _

"I agree with you Santana. It was idiotic of Rachel to have done that. There has to be a catch or something," I said evenly as I walked down the now empty hallway with them.

"See Britt, Berry marrying Sherk is a bad idea."

I stopped walking. I stopped breathing. I turned to look at Santana to see if she was joking. She wasn't.

_Rachel marrying Finn? That feels wrong. I think I'm shocked. _

"You left the room to early Quinn. Right after you asked Mr. Schue to use the restroom Finn and Rachel did a duet together and she gave out the details on when they were thinking of getting married," Brittany said as she grabbed Santana's hand and linked pinkies.

_How come I don't recall anything? I don't remember her saying that she was marrying Finn. I don't remember asking Mr. Schuster to go to the bathroom. I don't remember any of that. My mind must have subconsciously taken me out of a 'happening' moment? That has never happened before. _

"Since she's abnormally short, and his freakishly tall how will their kids come out," Santana asked no one in particular as she stood against a locker.

"That's how normal sized babies are made," Brittany answered frankly.

_Why I'm I putting so much thought into this. It doesn't even concern me. It's not like I really cared enough to fight for Finn, so why did I just have a borderline panic attack over him. This really made no sense. _

Santana broke my train of thought rudely as she spoke to me again.

"Hey Q, we're gonna go now, but text me when you stop acting weird alright."

Shortly after saying that she led Brittany down the hallway and out of the school's front doors, their pinkies still connected.

**Senior year **

**Santana Pov **

"I'm just thinking about it. I'm not sure if I should do it or not."

"You should do it San. It'll make you happy."

On a Friday night she could have been anywhere, but she was here with me trying to talk me into studying anything that has to do with criminal justice. All year long Brittany had tried to talk to me about colleges and future jobs and evidently future us, but I brushed it off having a feeling that the subject didn't really matter. And so tonight, being no different than every other night, I brought up the fact that I really liked to watch NCIS and she brought up the possibilities of life after college.

"San you could totally work as a detective. I mean if it wasn't for you we would've never found my history report on the Gold Rush that one time in Sophomore year."

I remember that man hunt. We looked through each and every square inch of her house, my house, the choir room, and her locker before I realized that the last place I saw her with it was in my car. Sure enough when I checked the back seat of my car there it was, a two page essay on the Gold Rush.

I generally thought of being a detective when Brittany brought it up. Maybe it couldn't be that bad. Law enforcement didn't take that long to study which would probably give me more time to myself and Brittany.

"Besides you're always saying that it's bad that people who hurt other people for no reason are never caught. Well now you can catch all the bad guys."

_It definitely doesn't sound boring, but it's risky. What if something happens to me when I'm working or worse what if something happens to Brittany? _

"They'll probably make you take a lot of classes, but it's worth it if you're happy."

She smiled brightly at me as she continued explaining the benefits of going into law enforcement. I had to laugh at her attempt to seal the deal on the idea.

_She's more excited about it then you are. _

I didn't mind the training, not after being on Coach Sylvester's cheer squad with Quinn Fabray as your captain. I knew I could handle the textbook part of it, after all I was a straight A student. A couple of years in college never hurt anyone. Besides Brittany's right, it won't matter if it makes me happy. And who knows with all the training I could create better protection for her.

_This honestly doesn't sound too bad. I can play it cool in college for a couple of years, get my degree, and start my career. It doesn't sound that bad, and Brittany's okay with it. Why not? _

"You know what Britt this doesn't sound too bad," I told her as she squealed and hugged me tightly causing us to fall back on my sofa cushions.

"I'll help you study when you need me to San I swear," she promised me before kissing me making me forget what we were talking about before.

**Senior year**

**Rachel pov **

I'd like to say me and Finn had a special relationship. We we're both mature enough to make mature life changing choices.

_Right? Of course I'm right. I know Finn is the one that I want to spend the rest of life with. Then why does it suddenly feel so disconnected between us? _

I felt guilty questioning my love for Finn. He was a nice boy that gave me more than enough support and attention, but sometimes I wonder if what Quinn tells me is right. What if I am ruining everything I've worked for for some boy? Even if Quinn was once cruel to me she always seemed to try to help me when I was at the _edge_ of the cliff dangling hopelessly waiting for the last shove, but instead feeling the tugging that pulls me back from my deadly fall. She pushed me to the brick of nothing only to be shoved right back to everything. She never let me fall. So why shouldn't I trust her. Why shouldn't I listen to her when she pleas with me to think about this before going through with it?

_She's so strange like that. Sometimes it looks like she's not even here with the rest of us, like she's reading a book in her head, and other times it looks like she's more here than everyone else. Why shouldn't listen to her?_

Just then Finn walked over to my locker giving me a peck on the lips before closing my locker door for me and holding my hand. He began to talk excitedly about some baseball game he saw the night before as we walked to lunch.

_That's why you shouldn't listen to her. Because this is too special to just give up on. _

I let him lead me to the cafeteria as I tried to convince myself that what we had we would always have. Even if I gave up on my dreams I would still have him to look at me the way he does. I still had him to tell me I was special and that I was worth it. I won't lose him.

_I can't lose him._

**Senior year **

**Brittany Pov**

It was fun to talk about the future with Santana. She was always saying that we would live somewhere nice and that it'd be almost like a fairytale cause it would be so perfect. It was fun to talk about Santana's future, but it wasn't so fun to talk about mine.

"San, I don't care where I apply," I told her as we got out of English class together.

"Britt, college is important and there's something for everything. You can study anything you want anywhere and I promise I'll never be too far away," she told me as we headed towards the choir room.

Sometimes I wish I could go with Santana everywhere, but even I can understand that that wasn't possible. Santana was really smart and almost all of the colleges she applied to have accepted her, but she hasn't accepted them because she's waiting on me.

"Besides law enforcement can be found anywhere, but dancing can't so I say you should choose where you want to go before I decide where I want to go. Just so that we can be closer to each other."

I loved Santana and I know it might make her sad to be away from me, but she needs this more than I do. She needs to be away from me for a while so that we can be together forever. It's like making a deal with the universe. It'd be worth it in the end for the both of us.

"So where were you thinking of going," she asked me again.

"Not sure yet," I replied.

She looked sad because she knew I was pushing the subject as far away from us as possible. I felt sad because I was making her sad, but I knew we'd be happy later. I took her pinkie in mine and smiled at her until she did the same.

"Don't worry San, I promise to never be too far away from you for too long."

And I wasn't lying. As soon as Santana was free I was going to be free with her. We'd be together in the end of everything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Five years later **

**New Haven: Yale University**

**Quinn Pov **

**(Age: 23, first year grad student)**

You know when someone suggested psychology as a profession for me I thought of irony and how beautiful it was and how often it played out in my life. I started my college life about four years ago and I now had the opportunity to study psychology and work on getting my masters degree. I found that I was comfortable being away from home. I liked being accustomed to the college life. It was isolated and I got a chance to be a shadow amongst people easier. Most of the stuff that I was learning in my classes was almost always insightful. It all seemed like this stuff could come in handy when being around people. There were different tactics that varied from emotional manipulation to looking 'normal' amongst others. Every book that I could find on the mysteries of the mind was literally sitting on my bookshelf. I even printed out some reports from the Internet that varied from different personality traits and characteristics that I studied in my classes.

For the first time in my life I had found something that was more time consuming then being a bully; and that was being obsessed with the human mind and all of its quirks. I was surprised to find that there was a name for everything that we did. Every emotion and every thought was all connected to little things that linked you to a label in a phycology book. It was all making more sense.

I had a horrible habit of analyzing people, but before now I thought that this habit made everyone predictable and boring. Now I realize that there was so much more to be seen in their actions. Like why some people lie for simple things or how other people tap their feet or fidget their hands. I didn't necessarily know it yet, but I was slowly learning the secrets to reading and manipulating the human mind. Including my own. For the first time in my life I felt like I knew everything about myself.

By the end of the first semester in my phycology class I had memorized and learned every personality disorder varying from cluster A-C to stuff that is completely unspecified by doctors. Then I began to study the characteristics amongst people that I knew, like my roommate Amber, who was not really considered much of a roommate to me because she was never really around. To be completely honest with you I think she suffered a small case of Histrionic personality disorder or HPD. It was said that most people encounter HPD in the early stages of adulthood and it only manifested more and more as you got older.

Amber had all the characteristics that most would describe as 'slutty' or 'whorish'. She was flirtatious and needy and threw herself upon men as if she wasn't worth much, but that was some of the characteristics of HPD. Of course it wasn't just Amber's boundless partying and loud character that made me automatically assume that she had HPD, it was also her (now) obvious conduct when luring people in to her conversations. Her dramatic approach to things was almost a form of emotional manipulation that I knew better then to fall for.

_I know that someone with HPD can't stand being ignored. It was fun to irk Amber simply by not listening to her. _

After my obvious disapproval of her presence around me she hasn't stopped trying to gain my affection. This was just another sign of HPD. Till this day she does her best to gain my approval and attention.

_What a stupid girl. _

When I wasn't studying my roommate and her boy-toys I could be found at the university looking for more studies and reports. Yale was interesting. It was loud yet quiet. In my psychology class I was getting perfect grades. My professor had taken the time to acknowledge my accomplishments in his class many times. He had even managed to introduce me to several doctors who have graduated from Yale with the same degree that I was trying to obtain. Most of these doctors had had to deal with anything and everything from what they claim to be completely bizarre to incredibility revolutionary. Some of them had written books and others had retired long ago and never looked back.

Things were mellow in my life. Or at least things were mellow. Everything was fine until one afternoon when I was walking out of my phycology class and Dr. Ralls stopped me from leaving his class. He said he wanted a word with me.

"Miss Fabray, your report on the Labeling Theory was quite unique," Dr. Ralls said as he picked up the report from his desk and looked through it.

"Unique in what way, sir?"

"Well it's the prime examples that people use, the mental illness and criminal action. Most people say that if you make a person believe that they are something then by self-fulfilling prophecy they become that something. Such as a criminal. You keep telling the golden egg that he's a rotten egg and he'll become a rotten egg. You did the report fantastically, but there are some things that I'd like to ask you about just out of curiosity."

Dr. Ralls looked tenser then usually. Just by looking at him I could tell that he felt apprehensive of what he was going to say. His hands kept running through his hair. And his eyes never left the paper in his hands, even when speaking to me. His shoulders looked tightly coiled as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

_He's showing obvious signs of anxiety. His movements are sudden and repetitive, and his eyes are moving too much. _

"Ask away, sir."

"You wrote the obvious, which I expected in this particular subject, about how a criminal becomes a criminal if the Label Theory truly is in motion, but you also wrote a, excuse me for saying so, ballsy subject on the Label Theory concerning homosexuality."

He took off his glasses and placed them between the neck line of his shirt as he looked at me.

"Well it's not so ballsy anymore if you think about it, sir," I said a little too harshly.

For some odd reason I felt annoyed. Not enough to feel threatened or to even heighten my pulse, but it was definitely making my temper act up.

"What I meant was that other people had researched on this before. Mary Mclntosh had written her book about how the two could or could not connect. The fact of the matter is doctor that no one really knows how homosexuality works. It's a mystery within itself so I guess if any of this was ballsy it was the part in the report that I added my own opinion on the matter," I said calmly.

He returned his gaze to the paper before he spoke to me again.

"Yes your right Miss Fabray I do believe that your opinion was quite brave. I just wanted to ask if it bothered you-the subject of homosexuality."

In that moment I thought of Kurt and Blaine and Santana and Brittany. I do believe everyone has the right to live as they will as long as they don't bother me.

_Of course being around gay people or seeing gay people or even talking about gay people didn't bother me._

"I'm actually quite comfortable with it," I said as I recalled my 'friends' from Ohio that I haven't seen or talked to in ages.

He nodded his head and turned his attention to me before handing me my paper, which was checked and graded.

"So your parents are okay with it," he asked me.

_Well my mother didn't mind as much as my father might've. Then again my father wasn't really my 'parent' anymore. _

"Yes, I'd say that they are fine with it."

"That must be good for you Quinn. To be so open about your sexuality to people, I mean. I'm glad you don't let it hold you back," Dr. Ralls said before turning away to leave the room.

_Oh. I think I've made a mistake. _

"Sir, you've mistaken. I'm not gay. I thought you were speaking in the general sense," I spoke after him.

He looked bemused and quickly started stuttering an apology. I waved it off as best I could before I left his class feeling slightly confused.

_Why did Dr. Ralls assume I was gay? I'm sure it could've just been the strange subject in my report. Maybe it's the hair. I didn't cut it that short. It still meets at my shoulder. Maybe it's my mannerisms. _

While studying psychology I've noticed that people depict a lot out of their mannerisms.

_My mannerisms? Is it the way I talk? The way I walk? Can someone walk gay? _

**New Haven: Yale**

**Dr. Ralls** **pov**

I knew Quinn Fabray was not gay, or straight for that matter. If anything this was just a test and she passed with flying colors. She proved to me what I did not want to know. Most people would show more emotion when taken by surprise, but she didn't. Most people wouldn't have gotten so annoyed so quickly with a simple objection to their actions, but she did. And most people would have been embarrassed if someone assumed they were gay, (when they weren't) but not her. Although she could be social and appear normal I know that she didn't enjoy it much.

I had been studying Quinn Fabray for a complete semester now and I've realized the little things that she did to appear normal. She would come to the 'get-togethers' that I held for my inspiring students and I would let her meet doctors that had majored in the same stuff that she was majoring in now. Before the meetings I told the doctors to meet this girl and give me an analysis on her behavior. I told them to act like it was just a normal meet-and-greet. They didn't questions my motives when I told them that I just needed to diagnose her without alarming her. Sure enough when some of the doctors got a better look at the young girl they found nothing. She was 'normal' to them. Out of the five doctors that meet Quinn only one saw something strange.

His name is Dr. Jay Kelly, and he was the oldest of the bunch. He had majored in psychology and later became a professor where he lectured to young inspiring students like Quinn. After writing a few books about human behaviors he became bored with everything. I recall him telling me that he had so much knowledge about his profession and he only used it for his gain. So he became a criminal profiler and worked with officers and other doctors to crack the enigma within the criminal mastermind. To him he wasn't just helping society, but the person that was hurting society. He believed that if someone had a disease then that person wasn't their disease and that they could still live a normal life if he worked with them carefully and properly.

Dr. Kelly was now around seventy-three or so and retired. Although Kelly had good intentions with all of his patients he didn't want to believe that their disease could take them over completely. He's perspective changed after an incident that happened during an interrogation involving a murder. Apparently Jay thought that the interrogation would run more smoothly if they removed the criminals' handcuffs and had the conversation with little restriction. The officers protested saying that the man was clearly 'sick and held no empathy', but Jay begged to see the killer the way he saw fit. After several pleas and bargains he spoke to the man with his own terms in place. The interrogation was running smoothly and Jay thought that he saw the beginnings of a small break through, until the man attacked him with a needle like device that he had manage to make from the aluminum table inside the interrogation room. The man was aiming for Jay's neck, but realized that he was doing little damage and instead pieced his eyes with the needle repeatedly until officers restrained him. Jay was taken to the hospital and taken into surgery. After the surgery he had to cope with the fact that he could no longer see. After that traumatic incident Jay retired and never thought of the human mind the same. He told me he went into a depressing like state because he could no longer think of his passion the way he once did. I know Jay because we were good friends and we both had worked together at the university when he was a professor. I was only three years younger than Jay, but I saw him as a mentor.

It took a lot of convincing to get him to see Quinn because he now had uneasiness with people who suffered from mental instability. I reassured him that she was not a patient but a student and that she was not diagnosed with any sort of mental illness. He agreed after I told him that I was at lost. This girl wrote every essay, and did every assignment I assigned abnormally perfect. Every word and analyzes was perfect as if she had firsthand experience to it all. But she was also normal looking and never showed obvious signs of anything too strange. But I couldn't help but feel that there was something different about the young student.

So I arranged the meet-and-greet and by the next morning Dr. Kelly had an answer to my questions. I know it sounds weird. How could a blind man see the signs of instability through someone if he can't see their behaviors? Well Dr. Kelly had certain tricks and test that he used on people that would determine little signs of anxiety and what not. He told me most of them when I questioned his ability as a blind man.

"When you meet someone what do you shake," he asked me.

"The other persons hand," I answered unsure of where he was going with this.

"And what's above the hand?"

"The wrist."

"Correct. Now in the wrist is, as you may know, the pulse point," he said while indicating his pulse point with his finger.

"When someone is going to meet someone else for the first time they can either feel excited or nervous or something similar to the two, right?"

"Right."

"Well it's only normal for me to shake someone's hand, but while I'm feeling their hand I can brush past their pulse point and feel if it is beating faster from the excitement or nervousness. Other times I will "need help" to move from room to room and someone will have to guide me. While they guide me I'll hold on to their wrist not their hand and ask them questions that I know they will most likely lie to causing their pulse to beat just a tad bit faster than before. The simple sign of a quickening pulse shows that someone is not completely empty of emotions or fear. That they feel something."

_Who would've thought that the old man still had skills up his sleeve? _

"Pretty impressive for a blind man," I told him jokingly.

He laughed and continued to speak.

"If for some reason I can't get a hold of the wrist I can always determine abnormal breathing habits by listening to them talk. An average person's speech pattern will not be consistent for a whole conversation. Their breathing will quicken with certain emotions or they will pause more when they have to think about what they're going to say something. That's normal. What's not normal is if breathing patterns don't change every so often and if they answer just a little too quickly to a question.

"Why so," I asked him now completely fascinated with his strategies.

"Because that means whatever they say is rehearsed. It's a sign of lying or hiding. They have studied the 'normal' conversations that people have and now know automatically what an appropriate answer is for different questions and situations. They do this to seem normal or to hide what they would normally say if they acted on their own impulse. You said she was a student, no?"

"Yes, one of my brightest actually," I said to him.

"Then how she acts, if she acts at all, should be textbook. This should be interesting," he finished quietly.

Sure enough during the meet and greet Jay acted like the little innocent old man and had Quinn guide him throughout his house. It was rather amusing to see the girl lead him here and there. We talked about the classes Quinn was taking and what classes Jay took. He also talked about his experiences and how he got his current condition. In between we made little small talk. It all seemed very ordinary, but it won't be another day until I know for certain that this meet-and-greet was ordinary or not.

At approximately seven-thirty the next morning Jay called my house phone.

"Jesus John did you bring a zombie into my home last night," he said in a joking manner.

"Why? What did you pick up," I asked almost frantically.

"That's the thing, I didn't pick up anything."

For a second there was silence on both ends of the line.

"No pulse. No hitch in breathing. Nothing," I questioned.

"She's like the walking dead my friend," he said well naturedly.

"What do you think it means? What is it that she could have, or be diagnosed with," I asked him

"You've studied her for about a year and a half now and I, a blind man mind you, has studied her for a day and I can almost clearly see what this type of behavior means," he said through the phone.

But I didn't need him to tell me. I knew where this was going. Quinn didn't look harmful, but then again what she has been showing me hasn't been very honest.

"Listen, from what I picked up yesterday I could tell our conversations were staged. She sounded like an actress reciting lines off of a script. Another thing was that even when I told her something dramatic or jaw dropping her pulse didn't nudge. She's smart and she's majoring in phycology and she happens to be the brightest in your class, which is literally making her become the perfect manipulator. She knows how to hide John. To be sure of what were both thinking you need to do the last test. You need to do the one thing that makes everyone budge with some type of emotion. Accusing. Accusing people usually builds up some reaction; especially if your accusing them of something that is far from the truth. That never goes wrong."

"Thank you, Jay. I'll call you later I have a class later on today."

I bid Jay a farewell before I put the phone back in its receiver. I knew that the 'last test' would be the proof that I would need to identify my brightest student as a possible sociopath.

**Authors Note: **

**Hey guys, this is my first time writing any type of fanfic. Just wanted to say that I'm putting out some chapters to see if it flows okay within the fandom and amongst the readers. I realized that I made some mistakes in the earlier chapters with some misspellings, miss use of wording, and some commas. I just wanted to say bear with me (haha). I was so excited to publish this that I forgot to make sure that every chapter was perfect. I'll try not to make pity mistakes next time cause I know it irks people. Your ideas are welcomed and so is your criticism concerning the story. Just don't go over board with the caps lock and swearing (haha). I also wanted to credit a good friend of mine who helped me with the Brittana stuff (cause I've only ever shipped Faberry before now). So Bianca… thank you for being my Brittana muse ****. **

**I also forgot to mention that I don't own glee and that I'm not trying to steal it. **

**Thanks for your time guys and see you when I do. **

**-N.S. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Five years earlier: Lima, Ohio **

**Quinn's Pov**

_**(Age: 18, senior year)**_

Marriage was a beautiful thing to most people. It's the last promise and the most important that you can make to your significant other. Marriage takes two and turns it into one. So why on earth would Finn and Rachel want to get married? They didn't love each other. They barely knew each other. I knew them better than they knew themselves. If Finn knew Rachel, or remotely cared about her, then he would know better than to be her anchor. And if Rachel knew Finn then she would know that he wasn't meant for her. I knew I had to stop this wedding. It was bad for the both of them. I'm sure if I was in a situation like theirs that they would help me. After all we're all 'friends' here, and friends help friends out.

And so here I stood, outside of Finn Hudson's front door, waiting to 'congratulate' him on his proposal to Rachel. A few minutes passed before he came out the front door to greet me and invite me inside his home.

"Wow Quinn, thanks for the surprise wedding gift," he said gratefully as I gave him a pocket watch that I bought the day before.

"No problem. I know you and Rachel will make each other happy. You two deserve each other and the gift is just an early present."

He grinned foolishly as he looked over it, and as I looked over him. He was taller than the average male should be, he had the same haircut since freshmen year, and his clothes looked like they were picked out by his mother.

_How is he a catch to people? _

"So you wanna grab a bite or something," he asked me as he made his way to the front door.

"Sure."

"Breadstix okay," he asked me as we were climbing into his car.

_Really? Breadstix? _

"It's like you read my mind," I said trying to sound genuine.

He smiled at me again as he drove out of his driveway and off to Breadstix. Once at the restaurant Finn got us a table and we ordered our food. After several uncomfortable minutes of listening to Finn talk about god knows what I finally decided to tune him out. The waitress came back with our food and I tried to make small talk while we ate.

"So the wedding day is getting closer and closer. How do you feel about it?"

"Well at first I was nervous, but I know me and Rachel are meant for each other so I try to worry less and just try to enjoy all of this."

_You have no idea what you're doing do you Finn? God how can someone look so clueless while eating pasta. Okay calm down you have to make him think your being a good friend. _

"That's good I'm happy for you."

He continued to smile his foolish grin while returning his attention to the food on his plate. He caught me staring at him and asked what was wrong.

"I'm sorry it's just that, I can't believe that you and Rachel are sacrificing so much for each other. It's heartwarming," I said as I took a sip of my water.

Finn looked confused. His brow creased and he looked at me with a questioning stare.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I think its sweet is all."

"What's sweet," he said curiously.

"Well how Rachel is practically giving up on NYADA, and you're practically giving up the college experience. You know I think that's really admirable," I said taking another sip at my water.

His wiped his mouth carefully with his napkin and leaned over the table a little to talk to me better.

"Well Rachel isn't really giving up on NYADA. I know that I didn't get in, but that doesn't mean that she can't go to New York. And I'm not really missing out on college life if in the back of my heart I have Rachel."

_The expression is 'back of my mind'. Not heart._

"Well that's weird. Rachel told me about a week ago that she wasn't planning on New York anymore. She said she wanted to be closer to you and was going to stay here in Ohio. That's why she put off NYADA for a year."

I didn't think someone could show so much emotion in a matter of seconds.

_He showed more emotions in four seconds then I did in four years. _

"Wait, are you sure she said that," he asked puzzled.

"Positive," I lied

"She told me this about a week before she found out you didn't get in."

_I didn't expect him to buy it so quickly. _

"Finn, are you alright?"

_Of course he's not alright. Well at least not according to Webster New Pocket Dictionary._

"No. I'm not. I didn't want… I didn't know she was doing that for me," he told me quietly.

"Finn I'm sorry."

_No I'm not._

"I thought she told you. I guess she wanted you to tell you after you guys got married."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "after we were married and there was no way to stop her."

"Stop her from what," I asked already knowing the answer.

"Stop her from living her dreams," he sighed.

"Oh Finn don't think like that. I know she'd rather be with you then in New York. You should be happy."

"I know she would rather have me because at this moment she wants me, but sometimes what we want isn't always what we need," he said remorsefully.

He called the waiter over to our table and asked for the check. The waiter bid us a good day and Finn and I climbed into his car and drove back to his house. He was quiet on the drive over there. The car was silent except for the humming of the engine and radio. He looked in deep thought at the revelation that he was holding Rachel back. On the drive over it started to rain making the scene even gloomier. As he parked his car in the curb of his house I thanked him for dinner. He nodded acknowledging my gratefulness. He walked over to his front porch as I walked over to my parked car in his driveway.

"Finn can you not tell Rachel I told you," I yelled over the rain, "I'm pretty sure she didn't want you to know and me telling you would probably upset her."

"Don't worry Quinn," he said before he disappeared behind the front door.

_I didn't do that bad. Maybe I should audition as an actor to get into NYADA._

**Lima, Ohio **

**Rachel's Pov**

_**(Age: 18, senior year)**_

We were parked in the front of a train station.

"Okay, this is not funny we're gonna be late."

"You're on the 4:25 to New York," he said with a blank expression on his face.

"Your dads are going to meet you there and they're gonna help you look at dorms," he continued.

I looked at him and couldn't comprehend what he was saying. All I heard was…

"We're not getting married."

I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach. We were both uncomfortably still and quite. My throat suddenly felt dry.

"You don't want to marry me?"

"I want to marry you so badly I can't go through with it," he said his voice breaking.

"The thought of you being stuck here because of me, it makes me sick."

_He looks so disgusted with himself. _

In that moment I pleaded that it wouldn't matter. I told him that I could apply next year to NYADA like I was planning to do all along. But he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't acknowledge my pleas. I told him I wasn't leaving. Not without him. I said that I would stay here for him. He only turned away disappointed. I said I'd go where he went and he said I couldn't follow him into the army.

_Why was he doing this? New York is there forever, but we aren't. I can't believe that this is happening. _

I couldn't help myself. I started to cry and he finally stared at me for the first time since parking at the train station.

"Listen you're going to get on that train and you're gonna go to New York, and you're gonna be a star…without me…that's how much I love you," he told me as he leaned over to look me in the eyes.

He told me to surrender. I didn't want to. I wanted to be selfish about this, but I couldn't be. Not really.

_He's right. I have to surrender. That's all he wants from me now. That's all I can give him. _

"I love you so much," I said as I kissed him for the last time.

I listened to Finn and I got on that train and I headed to New York. I cried the whole ride over. When I finally arrived I met up with my fathers and they told me that the first step to starting the future is to letting go of the past. So I let go. Not immediately, but eventually. Finn Hudson soon became a memory to me.

**Lima, Ohio **

**Quinn's Pov**

_**(Age: 18, senior year)**_

We were all there to say goodbye to Rachel as she departed from Ohio and journeyed to New York. She was crying and somewhere else on the platform so was Finn. I looked at her as she boarded the train and as she waved one last time to all of us. For a spilt second her eyes landed on me and mine on her. She waved at me and my heart jerked a tad bit, before going still again. I waved back and hoped that she got what she needed. In all the years I'd been in high school I had never felt so hopeful for something or someone so intensely. I accomplished something good-by sending Rachel on her way. She deserved this. Mission accomplished. As the train descended from Ohio I felt this tugging in my chest, and a churning feeling in my stomach. She was really gone.

_I don't know when I'm going to see you again, if ever. _

_No. _

_I know I'll see you again._

_Either in a magazine, a movie, or on Broadway, I'll see you. _

_You just won't see me, and that's okay. _

_That's actually the way that I want it. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**New Haven **

**Quinn's pov**

**Five years later**

**(Age: 23, first year grad student) **

I was almost completely alone now. Amber had moved out months ago, leaving me alone in my own apartment. I didn't have any pets or close friends. The only other person I now had was professor Ralls. Our friendship was unique if not odd. It started in my first year as a grad student. He told me that I was 'different' from the rest of his students.

"We'll to be completely honest with you, Quinn," he said in a cool voice, "your different then a lot of people. I mean, if you want to speak in the general sense."

_How different am I to you? Do you really know my capability? _

"I'm afraid I do Quinn," he said calmly.

_Did I say that out loud?_

"I know what you're capable of. I've seen it before. I want to help you," he said genuinely.

For a minute I no longer liked Dr. Ralls. I saw him, his body language. I knew he wanted something from me. What? I didn't know. I didn't need his help. I didn't need anyone's help. I've been dealing with this for years. I could go on for a couple of more without breaking.

_You do need him. You've been a coward, trying to cover up all of your tracks thinking that it was possible. You know deep down that your waiting to break. You felt it when Amber left, when Santana became head cheerio, and when Finn and Rachel were going to get married. They were all close calls. Do you really trust yourself? _

No I didn't trust myself. I knew I was a loose cannon ready to fire at any moment. How long could I really hold on to before I do something drastic again?

"Listen Quinn, I know the urges that you're feeling. I 've studied it all before. I can help you control it. I can help you make it bearable."

"I don't know if you know what you're signing yourself up for," I told him honestly.

"I don't know if you know exactly what you're doing anymore Quinn. If you're thinking about taking me up on my offer I'm gonna need to hear a solid yes, if not I won't bother you about it anymore and you can't bother me about it."

He's_ serious about this. He thinks he can help me. Help me do what, when all I really want to do it the unthinkable. The unforgivable. It's not like I'll feel bad for doing it, but I'm sure I'll go to jail for it and I wouldn't be okay with that. _

"Okay."

He nodded his head and extended his hand out. I took it within mine and I realized that Dr. Ralls was a man of his word. He'd always been a man of his word. He promised to make this bearable and I had no doubt in my mind that he would.

"We'll get you signed up tomorrow," he said before turning away from me.

"Signed up for what?" I questioned confused.

"A cooking class," he spoke slowly, "you need to pretend to have friends."

_I can't believe I agreed to this. _

Sure enough the next day I was learning how to cook Basil Cream Chicken. It's been a whole month and I can honestly say that I was a wonderful cook. I rarely cared for stuff like that, but it calmed the nerves a bit to cook a good Apricto and Ratifia Sponge Cake on your own.

Of course that wasn't all that Dr. Ralls was trying to teach me. He gave me five rules that I should always consider when doing everyday things.

Rule 1. Appear normal

Rule 2. Think before you do

Rule 3. Never tell your secrets to anyone

Rule 4. Expect the unexpected

Rule 5. No one who's innocent should be a victim of your crossfire

Most of these rules are something that a fifth grader would find easy, but it was highly complex for me. At that point I had put all my faith in Dr. Ralls. No one had ever giving me rules before, and if they did I never really followed them. I trusted that this would make it 'bearable'. I believed that I was getting what I needed. Dr. Ralls wasn't helping me and leaving himself empty-handed though. It's not everyday a phycology professor gets to work with and study a compliant sociopath. He was studying my 'bizarre' habits, as he saw them.

He would test me regularly and ask me questions frequently about how I felt or reacted in different situations. He was completely fascinated by everything I said. I could tell him that Coco Puffs wasn't my favorite cereal and he would speculate a million reasons on why. It was quite annoying on bad days. Sometimes I would lose my temper with him and snap. He explained that with time the control over my anger and annoyance would get better. He questioned me about my childhood often, but I honestly told him I didn't remember much of it.

After the cooking class got disbanded I still kept in touch with my 'friends', but only because Dr. Ralls told me to keep the illusion that I was 'normal'. He then explained that we needed to get me more 'friends' and signed me up for a self-defense class that involved a technic called Krav Maga.

_How many friends did I really need? _

A good pal of Dr. Ralls' ran the class. His name was Mr. Herz. He was an older man, about the same age as Dr. Ralls; he must have been around sixty something at best guest. I thought the old man might break a hip when teaching the class and voiced my concern to Ralls.

"Are you sure he'll be able to do this? I don't want to hurt an old man."

"Trust me you won't hurt him."

"Wait here I'm gonna go say hi," he told me as he left me at the door and walked over to Mr. Herz.

I saw them talking like old friends (or what I assumed old friends talked like). Somewhere along the conversation Ralls turned his attention towards me. He motioned me to walk towards them. When I got close up to Mr. Herz I noticed that for an old man he was still very healthy.

"Quinn this is Master Herz, your new teacher. Herz this is Quinn Fabray, my brightest student," he said almost proudly.

I shook the old mans hand and the next thing I know I was pinned under his weight, my face against a blue floor mat.

"Expect the unexpected," he told me as he pulled me up by my arm.

I groaned audibly. I still didn't really comprehend what had happened until it happened again.

_Jesus Christ old man. _

He pulled me up again this time by the sleeve of my shirt. When I was on my feet I tried to move away from him but his foot tripped me making me hit the blue colored mat once again.

"Think before you do."

_Okay I seriously don't need to take this type of bullshit. _

"Do you know what I could do to you old man," I told him harshly.

"Never tell anyone your secrets."

_Screw this I'm leaving I'm sure I can find 'friends' somewhere else. _

As I got up and made my way towards the door Dr. Ralls caught my arm. Out of instinct I pushed him roughly making him fall back. I was now acting on pure impulse. I no longer cared what I was doing or whom I was doing it too. I was almost out the door when the old man spoke again.

"No one innocent should be the victim of your crossfire. You've broken four of yours rules Miss Fabray. Are you really that lost," he teased.

"If you don't want to break your last rule, then you won't leave that door."

_You don't need this. Yes I do. I have to make this 'bearable'. But this is ridiculous. No, not knowing when you're going to kill someone is ridiculous this is recovery. _

I took a couple of deep breaths and walked over to Mr. Herz. I clenched my teeth as I saw Mr. Herz smiling at me. Why the hell was he so damn happy? He motioned me forward and I complied. He then offered his hand in a handshake. I wasn't ready to trust him. I wasn't ready to be thrown down again, but I shook it anyway. I shook it so I wouldn't break my last rule. I shook it to seem normal and polite.

"So I assume you know what I am."

"Well I definitely know what your not," he said before he pinned me down against the blue floor.

_Rule four, expect the unexpected._

**Dr. Ralls' pov**

**New Haven **

Quinn was a fascinating person. While studying her I would often ask her questions of how she had coped before I started to help her. She said she would occupy herself or simply act on an impulse that wouldn't hurt anyone too drastically. I asked about her daily routine and she said that she would wake up, go to the university, and go back home. She explained that anything in between home and school could get her too mad or annoyed and that it could cause a trigger. She definitely had an anger problem. After witnessing her lifestyle I realized that she was living life without a code. Without rules. So I gave her some to test if her behavior would change, and sure enough it did.

She began to follow my advice better and started interacting with more people to see if she could pull off being 'normal'. She even suggested a class that taught her how to speak Hebrew so she could communicate with Mr. Herz better. It was almost like a game to her. To see if she could win against everyone else.

I was concerned about Quinn despite the good progress she was showing me. I had studied the personalities and symptoms of psychopaths and sociopaths and she didn't seem to fit in one or the other. It was strange really. Technically if I was her therapist I wouldn't be able to diagnose her with anything, but for now I'd say that she was a sociopath. I kept all of Quinn's progress in my study at home and every now and then I look through it and know in my heart that she had probably not developed a sense of empathy or conscience when she was younger. Most sociopaths and psychopaths don't.

The little information that I got from her past indicated that she never made an emotional connection to anyone. She said that every one was a checker piece in her mind. I sometimes wonder if I too am a checker piece in her mind.

I knew Quinn lacked empathy. I knew she could probably never care for anyone, but herself. I ran more test on her and realized that she could be dangerous, and careless despite being very intelligent. That's why I signed her up for the self-defense classes. When she's faced with the probability of hurting someone else she will be precise with her pain affliction. She will act on knowledge and not so much on impulse. The person suffering her wrath would probably suffer less if Quinn actually knew what she was doing.

I was hopeful, but not so hopeful that Quinn could change completely. I can only help her appear normal, and perhaps safe. But I knew she was bloodthirsty. She couldn't hold on much longer before she snapped; I just wanted to make sure she snapped at the right person.

_Rule number five, no one innocent should be the victim of your crossfire, but that doesn't mean she can't harm the guilty as charged. _

After a month or two into the Krav Maga classes she started to question my next move.

"What else do we do?"

"Mr. Herz says that you're doing excellent in the self-defense class."

"You didn't answer my question."

I knew what was next. My finale contribution to her. She began to understand who the innocent were and who deserved a deadly fate. I knew there was no holding back.

"I believe that next year I will no longer be your professor. You will have to do this on your own. I have trust in you, but I won't lie to you. Quinn, you're always gonna have the urge to kill. The only thing that will make it bearable is actually committing the act."

She looked at me as if she wasn't sure what I was implying.

"So now I ask you, how do you appear normal?"

She didn't answer me for a long while. She finally spoke up releasing herself from the trance like state she was in before.

"Socializing, making friends, and showing more emotion towards others, even if there not genuine."

"Good, now what do you do when some asshole says the wrong thing on the wrong day?"

"Think before I do, and let it go."

"What do you do when someone asks you a personal question?"

"Think before I speak, and answer the complete opposite of what I was going to say. Never tell them my secrets."

"Good combination, what do you do when someone tries to steal money from you."

"Expect it to happen. This is New Haven after all," she scoffed. "Always expect the unexpected."

"Okay and what do you do when I ask you too many questions on a bad day," I asked carefully.

She looked confused. She wasn't sure what to answer. The hesitation worried me.

"Tell you that it's a bad day and to leave it alone," she said almost sheepishly not really knowing the answer.

Little did she know was that she answered correctly.

"Good, but would you be able to do that to a person who harmed someone. Perhaps, someone who murdered a child or me or anyone who didn't deserve to be hurt. Would you be able to stop yourself from killing someone who did something horrendous and got away with it," I questioned softly.

She stared at me for a minute. Her eyes never left my face creating more tension around us. She was studying me like she always does. She's looking at my behavior and posture trying to pick up clues and hints. I wasn't sure if she was going to answer the way I wanted her to and I'm not sure what to tell her if she didn't. She slouched in her chair a little.

"No. I wouldn't."

A matter of seconds soon felt like long hours. I wanted to choose my words carefully. I wanted her to understand the meaning behind what I was about to say. I wanted her to pass this test.

"Good Quinn, because I'm not asking you too."

_This is it. It's up to you now. _

" If you ever have the urge to kill Quinn remember the rules. Remember what you just told me now. If you ever have the urge to kill, kill the people who deserve it. The people who meant harm to others."

My work here was as good as done. I did everything in my power to turn the darkness in her into a certain light.

"You're giving me permission to kill."

"No, Quinn. I'm giving you permission to commit your own acts of justice."

There was no other way around it. At least with this approach she could help others.

She nodded and got up from where she was sitting. She shook my hand. A last farewell. She walked out of my classroom a little while later. I trusted her with the code that would hopefully keep her out of danger. It was just something to keep her in the shadows when she was really in the spotlight. Quinn Fabray was my brightest student, but she was also my most dangerous pupil. I knew that she would do well by the code, which would make her condition more of a benefit to society rather than a problem.

_What can I say. She passed this test like she did every test, with flying colors. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Santana's pov**

**New York City**

**(NYPD: Uniformed officer)**

"So remember, we may be the protectors of this great city, but even we can't do everything by ourselves."

Everyone around me started to get up from his or her seat and exit the room as the chief of police finished his speech. Recently Detective Norms, one of NYPD's keenest homicide detectives, went missing on Monday. No one knows why Norms was captured or how, they just suspect that he was taken after coming home from work. There was absolutely no evidence that could lead us to Norms or his kidnapper.

There was no trace of him or his car, which was taken as well. It was a bizarre situation. Of course there was nowhere to start when viewing his case because he was a homicide detective meaning that he had many enemies varying from mafia bosses to pity thieves. Stuff like this really fazed the people around here knowing that the same could happen to them at any moment.

It was more upsetting to Brittany then it was to me. I knew the dangers of being a cop, but the sudden reality of it hit Brittany like a ton of bricks when I told her about Detective Norms and his disappearance.

"I don't want something like that to happen to you."

"Britt, it won't. I'm careful about stuff like that. I know what to do if something like that were to happen to me. Not like it would happen in the first place. So don't worry."

I wasn't being completely honest. Whether or not it could happen was unknown, but I wasn't lying when I said that I trusted myself enough to know what to do if something like that were occur. I took enough courses and classes and did enough tests to prepare myself for stuff like that. I knew what I was doing.

"Maybe you can be a zoo keeper, San. That would be cooler and safer," she said seriously.

"Britt, I promise to be careful at all times."

I walked over to her and kissed her temple.

"And besides zoo keepers have to look after animals and you know I can barely keep up with Lord Tubbingtion," I said trying to reason with her.

After spending several minutes watching a sitcom on TV, we finally called it a night and climbed into bed. As Brittany dozed off next to me, I stayed awake a little longer. I couldn't help but feel anxious. Norms was a family guy. He was married with a kid from what I understood. What if the kidnapper tried to hurt his family? What if someone tries to hurt mine? All I really had was Britt, well at least here in New York. I couldn't risk losing her. I wouldn't forgive myself if she got hurt.

_And that's why you have to make detective in two years, because you need to get rid of the scum in this city. Or at least reduce the number of scum in this city so that no one has to go through that. _

Brittany instantly curled into my side like she always did when the room got too cold. I pulled the bed covers closer to us. I couldn't really settle my mind anymore. Some nights I suffered from a little insomnia, and this just happened to be one of those nights.

_Well now that Norms was gone it really would be easier to make detective in two years._

The thought was almost so reassuring that it made me fall asleep right after I thought it.

**Quinn's pov**

**New York City**

**(Third year grad student) **

I've always wondered what it would feel like to be like them. To feel for something or someone. I want to know what it feels like to hurt someone and feel remorse afterwards. But the feeling never comes. I hear a small groan behind me and I know it's time to stop wishing and start feeling in the only way I know how. I grab the scalpel that is sitting on the desk next to me. It's shiny and sliver, like the stars that are shining at this time outside. A forensic light illuminates the room I myself am in. The forensic light makes the empty room look intensely bright. I walk closer to the owner of the groan that I heard earlier.

The man had to be about 5'9 weighing at about 190 to 195. He was balding slightly and had to be in his mid-thirties. He started to stir lightly. I noticed the wound on his neck (effects of a rod wire that was now properly disposed). He sat oddly in a reclining metal chair that was covered in plastic. His hands and feet were strapped on to the chair leaving him absolutely useless.

His eyes opened and after several seconds everything finally came into focus. The man looks at his surroundings and he slowly starts to panic. He now pulls at his hands trying to regain some control, but it is all in vain. His attention suddenly falls on me for the first time since he regained consciousness.

"Who are you? What do you want? What is this," he questions frantically.

The questions don't stop, and neither does his struggle. I move over to the chair and recline it to where he's almost laying down. He screams and starts to struggle roughly against the restrains. The chair moves with every jerk that he makes with his body. He's forced to look directly at the lights above making it difficult for him to see as he is now blinded by its brightness.

"No! Please! Don't do this to me," he cried as he saw the small knife in my hand.

He screamed until his lungs gave way. His face was red and his eyes were shut. His body shook with every sob that escaped his lips.

"Hello, detective."

He crammed his neck slightly to see me better.

"Are you done because I'd like to proceed," I told he truthfully.

He sobbed harder once again pulling at the restrains.

"Don't do it. I have a wife and kid. I'll give you anything you want!"

"Detective Norms, all you can give me now is your life and you're being quite difficult about it."

He started to give up on the restrains and calmed down a bit. He was still sobbing, but it wasn't as hysterical as before.

"You don't have to do this. You can let me go, and I promise not to say anything. I promise," he says quickly.

"Oh, but that would make me a bigger monster than you," I said as I grabbed his face and made him look at me.

"What are you talking about?"

He tried to move away from my grasp, but I only dug my nails deeper into his skull drawing a small amount of blood making him cry in agony.

"The only monster here is you. What, do you get a thrill from cutting up people? Is that it? Do you get your kicks from watching other people die," he spat in my face.

Then he literally spat in my face.

_If I wasn't going to hurt him before, I definitely was now. _

I wiped the small amount of slobber off my upper brow and pointed the small knife against his head. It was to quick for him to comprehend and he yelled in pain as it scraped his cheek. A small trickle of blood ran down his chin, and my scalpel was no longer a shiny sliver but a dark crimson red.

"You don't deserve to parade yourself as a hero detective. You're greedy, selfish, and this alone has allowed you to let criminals walk over this city as if it were the yellow brick road. And you're also cheating on your wife with Commissioner Wright's secretary. That one's just a plus."

"You have no proof." He said sounding arrogant.

"Don't I," I challenged.

"All I needed was a month to find out how to bug your phone calls. You had several conversations indicating that you, Detective George Norms, were aiding drug trafficking. If you don't believe me we can replay the tapes to refresh your memory."

Without as much as another thought I pulled out my phone, which had the recording of Norms' phone conversations. I turned it on and the detective's voice filled the room. The recording was filled with ploys that Norms constructed with local drug dealers to prevent them from getting arrested and to transport the drugs carefully into the city without getting caught.

"You've been turning a blind eye detective. You're more of a criminal than me in this case," I spoke while cutting off the tape.

"You think you're doing people justice," he mocked. "If this was justice then the drug dealers on that tape would be here with me."

"See that's the thing. I expect for drug dealers to deal drugs. I shouldn't have found you doing it."

He hit his head against the headrest in frustration.

"Under your ploys to cover up the evidence you managed to kill a prostitute named Whitney Ray last month, are you familiar with this?"

He didn't answer the question, but began to sob again.

"I'll take the silence as a yes. When the case of the death of Miss Ray was brought up to your homicide team you made sure that everyone ignore it simply because she was a prostitute. Correct?"

"She was though. She was a prostitute," he said loudly.

"A prostitute that had a family. A kid, like you. She was also the only witness that saw you at the crime scene the night that big shipment came in from Chicago. You killed her. You killed her without reason. That's murder detective. I should know."

"Your gonna kill me because I killed some whore," he said in disbelief.

"No. I'm going to kill you because it wasn't only Miss Ray. You've done this to other men and women haven't you detective? Killed them. Without mercy. Without pity. Without a second thought of consideration. And don't lie cause I have the evidence. And even after all that you still claim to be a hero, when all you really do is abuse the trust that people give you. See your nothing, but a murderer with a badge."

"They were probably gonna die anyway. They were always either junkies or street workers," he tried to reason.

"That may be true, but everyone has a life expectancy and a right to that life expectancy. I honestly have a problem with you taking it from people. No one deserves to die on your corrupt watch and by your corrupt hands. I decide your life expectancy detective."

_What goes around comes around._

He struggled against the restrains just like before. He started to scream for help, making his face turn an unflattering red. The veins on his neck made an appearance looking ever so tempting. His chest was moving up and down intensely. I grabbed his head and slammed it roughly against the chair's headrest. I held it there as he struggled to move away. My thumb was pressed against his pulse. It was beating rapidly as the reality of death presented itself to him. Fear. I put the scalpel back on the table that it once sat on and grabbed a pair of scissors and a plastic bag. I walked around him, my feet making the plastic on the floor crackle slightly. I grabbed his head and as I did so he started to fidget.

"If you move I might slice off your head and that is not my intention," I said seriously.

He stopped for a second giving me an opportunity to cut a piece of his hair like I wanted. I put the brown lock of hair into the plastic bag and placed it on the table along with the scissors. I grabbed a slightly larger knife.

In the next moment I had the rush I knew I would get as his screams were now at a max and the blood slowly puddle around the plastic wrapped around his body. The knife slowly sliced through the flesh beautifully. I was embracing the high that I was experiencing. My heart was beating just a little faster than usual, but I was at peace with myself. My hands worked on their own accord. My craftsmanship was excellent. The moment engulfed me like how waves engulf sand off a shore. It held on to me and refused to let me out of its grasp. Just like I held on to him as he refused to stay still, until finally he had no choice. After the whole ordeal I pierced him with a fatal stab to the heart (just for good measure). The blood was running freely now. His face no longer recognizable because of the damage I caused.

In the end I smashed his jaw and teeth in by the means of a hammer (just in case someone were to find him). I wanted to be sure that no one recognized him as Detective Norms if his remains were discovered. I burned his fingertips to the bone leaving no fingerprints. The plastic makes it so no blood spills over the floor leaving for a quick clean up.

I had to work all through the night to dismember his limbs so that I could transfer his body to the 'grave' I dug up days before. I buried the remains were I buried all the remains while visiting New York. I would have throw him into a lake, but sometimes I hope that the police find the bodies so that they can see my handy work, and thank me silently in their heads.

As I was done burying Norms I looked up and saw the sun beginning to set. After that I walked off. His car was wiped clean of fingerprints and burned in an abandoned parking lot along with the bloody plastic. Hopefully no one finds the car and reports it until I'm already halfway to New Haven.

I didn't have housing in New York, so after I was done I would go to the train station, wait until I got a boarding pass, and ride back to New Haven at whatever hour was available. I did this for security. I never organized a kill in New Haven. I would travel to New York after studying my victim and slice them there and travel back to New Haven the next morning or afternoon. No one suspects a thing if I do it like this. I had nothing of mine in New York except a reliable abandon building and an old car that I usually only used when I couldn't 'kidnap' my victims in their cars. The only thing that travels between New York and New Haven was the piece of hair that I kept from every victim. My trophy.

I remodeled the abandon building a bit fixing locks for doors and such. The reclining chair was already there I just added the florescent light to it and it now looks like a chair that you would find while visiting the dentist. The room was a dirty haggard place, but it was enough for now. When I would visit I would only bring a bag with me to take my trophy back home where I kept all the other trophies. The bag also had a spare set of clothes to change into after the others got ruined with dirt. I left the 'murder' tools, such as the scalpel, in the abandon building beneath one of the wooden floorboards.

I learned the technique of using plastic as a way to prevent blood from getting too messy when I was practicing criminal profiling in New Haven. I had the opportunity to talk to a man who had been a serial killer for several months before having a horrible slip up and getting caught.

"Why did you do it," I asked him.

He smiled at me with a predatory stare.

"Not really sure. Does that make me crazy doc."

His smile was obnoxious and the smirk on his face…I just wanted to slap it off.

"I'm not a doctor."

"How did you do it," I asked keeping my cool.

"I got the knife and cut the fucker right between his legs," he said while bursting into a fit of laughter.

"What else did you do?"

"I sliced up his pretty little face. Then I cut off a piece of his thigh and cooked it in my pot" he said while pointing at his stomach.

"He was delicious by the way, I do recommend it."

"For all that effort it sure didn't show at the crime scene," I said clearly confused at how he kept it so clean.

"Yeah I wrapped his little body up in plastic before getting busy. Afterward I put him, or the rest of him, in the freezer. I would have ate him to if it wasn't for the nosy neighbors."

"Well you did kill and eat the neighbor's husband I can only imagine that she would be upset and nosy," I said truthfully.

"Yes you can imagine. But that's it isn't it. You can only imagine what they feel. You're like me aren't you," he asked quietly.

"No. We're different. You're a disgrace to me. I live by a moral code," I said before walking out of the room.

_We're different. I'm not like the rest of them. They kill without reason. I kill with the purpose that it will help others. I'm different. Yes, Quinn you're a different kind of monster. Be proud. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**One month later **

**Rachel's pov**

**New York City**

**Broadway: understudy **

New York was its prettiest at night. The lights shining from billboards, streetlights, and nightclubs made everything look so alive. The people crowded the streets along with the unmistakable yellow cabs. Waiting in line anywhere was absolute hell, whether it be to get into a club or into an unused bathroom stall. People's laughter and conversations flowed as freely as the liquor in their systems. The clubs made the night bright, but dark. It was exhilarating. The music pulsed with your heart and feet beautifully.

Everyone here was different. Some people came alone; others came with everyone they knew. In the end we all came here together to get drunk and dance. Clubs were like the parties that never ended. There isn't one night when a fight doesn't break out and the men in the black shirts break up the dispute, but the party doesn't stop. It feels like the party never stops.

I only came with a few cast members tonight. Dressed at their best and dancing at their worst as the vodka started to take effect on them. They would hang on to me occasionally to get a grip of something when they got to tipsy and forgot how to use their feet. I was comfortable with it now. I learned to enjoy it. I laughed with them and everyone else tonight. One of them grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor. I moved along to the music. The proximity of everyone was slowly becoming too suffocating, but I really didn't mind. If you close your eyes it's almost like you're the only one dancing. And so I closed them and they stayed closed.

When the song ended and switched to another tune, I opened my eyes again and for a spilt second I saw a ghost. A ghost from the past sitting a few feet away from me in a booth. A ghost that looked so abnormally beautiful, that it was hard to miss her. A ghost with hypnotizing hazel eyes. She was staring right at me. I wasn't sure if I should walk over to her or if she would walk over to me.

"I'll be right back," I screamed over the music to no one in particular.

I walked over to the women sitting by herself in the deserted booth that had a crisp sign hanging by it saying 'reserved'. Her eyes followed my every move. I felt a little self-conscience. I hadn't felt self-conscience since my freshmen year at NYADA and that was years ago. When I reached the table all we did was stare at each other before I broke the comfortable silence.

"Can this sit be reserved for two?"

She seemed a little confused and looked around before she answered.

"Yes, of course."

She scooted a little leaving me enough room to sit next to her. I admittedly hugged her as I sat down and she returned it the only way Quinn Fabray would, with a little pat on the back for reassurance.

_Wow she smells good. Great, I probably smell like vodka. I didn't even drink tonight. _

We pulled back from each other after a while. She really did look beautiful.

"So are you expecting anyone else Miss Fabray?"

"No. Surprisingly just you," she laughed.

"Well that's good. I haven't seen you in years and to be honest I don't think I want to share you with any one tonight."

She chuckled and took a sip of the drink in her hand.

"Seriously you've been M.I.A for years. Then you come to New York without notifying me, that's just rude," I joked.

"My apologies Miss Berry. Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me," she joked back.

I laughed. Quinn was more relaxed then she was in high school. I was enjoying older Quinn.

"I'll think about it."

**Quinn pov**

**New York City **

From time to time I would search 'Rachel Berry' online, and the search results would leave me a Facebook link to a county judge in Kentucky. Other times I would search inspiring quotes to add to my phycology papers. A man named, Chimanmanda Ngozi Adichie, said one of the quotes I had found while writing an essay. Adichie quoted, "I think you travel to search and you come back home to find yourself there."

When I tried to find Rachel Berry I couldn't, but when I didn't she came to me (literally).

I wasn't really there for a 'good time'. I was following somebody. Angie Brooks. She happened to get away with murdering a child, and spent most of her free time in clubs like this one celebrating the victory of wining the trial case. I was thinking of killing the lawyer that made it possible, but he was only doing his job. I couldn't kill him for being good at what he does.

I followed Brooks and her friends to the club. I knew she was going to this club so I reserved a table for myself so I could examine her in peace.

It only took a couple of shots of liquor before she was a mess. I looked at my wristwatch and saw that it was getting pretty late. When Brooks could no longer walk straight her friends decided to depart from the club and head home. Two friends helped her by throwing one arm over each of their shoulders and helping her walk past the sea of drunken people. They were exiting the club. I stood up and left a tip on the table, but then I saw her.

Rachel Berry, dancing gracefully among a crowd of people, head thrown back and eyes closed as the people around her paid little attention. Her dancing was almost exotic. She moved perfectly against the loud music. Her short dress rode up her tone legs a bit, leaving little to the imagination. She looked older. More sophisticated. The dim blue lighting in the club painted her face in a striking way. I felt strange watching her dance, it was like I was intruding or invading her privacy, but I couldn't look away. The loud music seemed to drown out a bit.

Then she opened her eyes and stared right at me. I hadn't noticed, but my heart was pumping roughly against my ribcage. I was actually a little out of breath. I regained composer as she stopped dancing and said something to her friends before walking over to me. The heat of the club was heavy on me.

Rachel sat down and conversed with me for a while and everything was good, until her friends came over and joined the conversation.

"Hey Rachel whose this," a girl with dark hair said.

"Anna this is Quinn, Quinn this is Anna."

I shook hands with the tall brunette. The girl next to her, a blonde, extended her hand to grab mine.

"Hi, I'm Ashley."

"Nice to meet you."

_It's difficult to talk in clubs. Too much shouting not enough hearing. _

Both girls laughed.

"You don't have to be so polite Quinn. Any friend of Rachel's is a friend of ours."

"So are you taking her home tonight, cause after today's rehearsal she sure as hell needs a distraction." The brown-haired girl said.

She had a devilish smirk on her face as she nudged the blonde next to her.

Rachel looked generally embarrassed and annoyed. She huffed in an impatient manner and shooed them away to get more drinks for themselves. Both girls obeyed and strolled away laughing. Even in the dark club atmosphere I could see the light hint of red on her cheeks.

"Sorry about them, they're so blunt sometimes, and it's usually about the stupidest things," she apologized.

I smiled at her to try to reassure her. "It's fine Rachel, my 'friends' are the same."

And it's true they really were. Apparently a cooking class is the perfect place to make inappropriate jokes.

"So Quinn, what are you doing after this," she spoke loudly over the music.

_Wait by the train station until I find a morning ride back to New Haven. You? _

"Probably get a hotel somewhere and spend the night here in the city."

Rachel's eyes looked straight into mine. Her eyes looked so beautiful. She wasn't your everyday Jane Doe. Her hand grabbed my arm slightly and leaned closer to me so we didn't have to scream at each other over the loud bass coming from the speakers within the club. My heart was racing and I was holding my breath slightly.

"Mind if I join you," she spoke delicately.

Now both my heart and mind were racing. My body felt ignited like the streets of New York City on a Friday night. My face felt numb, but not my usual numb. This was a good numb.

_I should probably answer her. _

"Yeah. Sure."

**The Next Morning **

**Rachel pov **

People usually describe heaven as a peaceful white dwelling with clouds and angels. Quinn Fabray's hotel room after an intense 'welcoming' was very close to that (if not better). Out of habit I woke up that morning at six o'clock like I did every morning. The sun was lightly gleaming through the big window lighting up the room in a faltering way. The bed was very comfortable. It was soft and delicate and it made me want to fall back to sleep.

_Are you describing the bed, or the other person in the bed?_

I tried to stretch out my arms in front of me, but they were slightly pinned underneath an arm that hung loosely over my waist. I tried to turn around and see if she was awake. Sure enough she wasn't. Her blonde hair, now a mess, hung loosely around her face. She stirred a little in her sleep and moved away from me slightly.

I then remembered everything that we did last night. I remembered the club, the diner, the cab-catching incident, and finally the kiss at the hotel door. Last night made me feel like such a teenager. Just remembering it now is making me embarrassed, but a good type of embarrassed.

_I giddy type of embarrassed. _

I looked over to the sleeping body next to me. Her chest rose and fell with every breath that she took. The bed spread didn't cover much and I admired Quinn Fabray completely nude from the waist up. Seeing her so vulnerable made it seem so angelic. Watching Quinn Fabray sleep was like watching a tiger sleep. There's that fascination with being so close with something so magnificent, but there's also that fear of being bitten.

_Sure she's cute and cuddly now, but what will she be like when she wakes up?_

I managed to carry her arm off me and slipped my feet to the side of the bed. I slowly lifted myself off the bed, wincing with every creak and whine it made. I now stood stark-naked in the middle of the hotel room as I tried looking for my clothes. I walked around until I found my dress and my shoes. I was going to walk into the bathroom to change, when I heard a moan like sound behind me.

"Hey," I heard a low whisper.

_God if she keeps talking like that I'll never leave. _

"Hey," I replied as I turned around to face her.

I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, naked, with my clothes in my hands. I felt self-conscience again. I tried to hide behind the clothes, but realized it was foolish to try to act modest. She was rubbing her eyes slightly and stretching along the bed before letting out a small yawn.

It was rather amusing watching her so at ease, almost child-like. When I chuckled she turned around to face at me. Her hazel eyes were barely open. I smiled at her before proceeding to go into the bathroom.

"Rachel," she called out before I shut the door.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to grab some coffee or breakfast, you know, with me?"

I hadn't really looked at Quinn Fabray until now. The girl was naked in a hotel bed in New York City, asking me if I wanted coffee and maybe some breakfast, and in that moment I felt like I finally saw who she really was. She was fearless, but fearful. She knew things, but she was oblivious. She was wise, but young.

_Best of both worlds? _

"I would actually love that right now," I answered.

She smiled before falling back on to the mattress. I walked into the bathroom and realized that I couldn't go out to breakfast wearing a cocktail dress and high heels.

"Hey Quinn," I screamed at the bathroom door.

"Let me get dress and then we can go to my apartment to get some clothes, alright."

There was no answer on the other side of the door.

_Maybe she left the room to get something. _

I peaked out the door to see if she was still there. As I looked out the small space created between the door I saw a very passed out Quinn hugging a pillow as she dozed off into her own dreamland.

_It's okay. I'd rather sleep in any way. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**One year earlier**

**New Haven **

**Quinn's pov**

"Dreams are forever," he said.

"They never go away. Even when we're awake we're sill dreaming."

I wanted to believe him, but I don't think I ever really dreamed about anything before. Reality was much more powerful than pure imagination. The reality of life was much more helter-skelter then the esse of my mind when I was asleep, but it was all I had. Now wasn't the time to dwell. To dwell on a forgotten time and forgotten place and to accept that it can't all be mine. The peace of my mind and body can't be mine if I still wanted to be grounded instead of in the clouds. The earth was dark. It was darker than being blinded by close eyelids.

It makes me question everything.

_Is it really my world that's dark or yours'? Is it my world that's tainted or my idea of the world that you made me believe existed? Does it matter in the end if we're both living in it? _

"If you can't dream you can't live," he told me in a softer tone.

"That's fine with me. I don't much like it here anyways."

"Quinn, your life, like everyone else's, is important in this lifetime. Death, or even the idea of death, is not the answer," he said sternly.

"I didn't mean it like that," I answered annoyed.

I can't imagine actually dying. I can only picture other people dying. It's similar with feeling.

_I see their feelings. I just can't feel their feelings. _

Even if the world wasn't so dark I think there would still be people like me. Monsters. It's not our fault. It's actually a blessing. You can't have white without black. In turn you can't have good without bad. I'm making it easy for people. I'm the bad, it's time for them to start acting like the good. It's balance. You're either dark or light. An angel or a demon.

"What do you dream of doctor?"

Dr. Ralls looked up from the paper he was grading. He sighed deeply and took off the glasses he was wearing and set them down on his desk.

"A lot of things really."

"What type of things," I pushed on.

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me.

"Sometimes I dream about the past. I sometimes think that maybe if I did things differently than things would have turned out better. I dream of different futures."

Leaning back into his chair, he grabbed the stress ball off his desk. He lightly started to toss it in the air.

_I wish I could say the same professor. Dreams are for children. They comfort their minds creating the illusion that the world has stopped and won't start again until their ready to wake up. My world doesn't stop doctor. It spins round and round. An endless cycle that makes me dizzy and tired. When I'm so tired of spinning I finally just fall. Falling is difficult doctor. Sometimes we want to believe that we're falling and there's someone there beside us, but we sadly realize that we fell alone. Dreams are for now and reality is forever. How sad does that make you feel doctor? _

I looked at him and noticed that he resumed grading the papers on his desk no longer paying attention to me.

_Dream now doctor, you never know when you're gonna be forced to wake up. _

**One year later**

**Brittany's pov**

Music is sometimes the only thing that makes sense. Music and Santana. So music and Santana together was beautiful. It was Sunday, and it was dark out. You couldn't see the stars in the city, because of all the lights, but I wasn't looking up. I was to busy looking down.

Santana had kneeled down in front of me, and pulled out a tiny black box. Her big brown eyes looked up at me as she opened the box to reveal a ring. Soft music was playing from the stereo that we bought three years ago when we first moved in to this apartment. Two years we spent apart because of colleges and future career choices. We finally met up in New York like we planned. We moved in together and everything was how Santana said it'd be. Perfect. Santana was still working on being a detective and I have been working as a dancing tutor in a studio, but we were together.

"Britt…"

I remember our first kiss. The coming of freshmen year and the ending of our eighth grade summer. I leaned down and she moved up, and we connected. It was soft and gentle like Santana's skin. She tasted like the honey that mom use to put in her tea.

"I know this is sudden…"

I remember how she took me to feed the ducks after we found out I had to do summer school in our sophomore year. She watched me as I tossed the pieces of bread into the water. When there was no bread left, she kissed me for the second time.

"But you should know…"

The way she looks at me...I can't forget that look. Like I'm the only thing in her world. Like I'm the missing piece. It's impossible to forget that look because she looks at me like that everyday.

" That I love you…"

It feels like the first time every time with Santana. Everyday feels different, but the same. It's like our love never changes in this ever-changing world.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You're the best part of me. I love you with all my heart and words can't explain how I feel about you. You're my other half. I was meant to love you. I truly believe that god put me on this earth to love you. If Picasso was born to paint, Shakespeare born to write, and Einstein born to think. Then I was born to love you till the day death due us part, and even then I wouldn't stop. Brittany Susan Pierce, will you marry me?"

I'll remember this moment forever, because in this moment alone everything made sense. Everything was right. No amount of words, numbers, or people can make this moment fuzzy with confusion. I'll never be more certain in my life.

"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. You can ask me again and I'll say yes again. You can ask me tomorrow and I'll say the same thing. You can ask me when we're old and I'll say yes. Yes, Santana."

She smiled and got up form the floor. I didn't realize I was crying until her thumb brushed my cheek wiping the tears away. She moved up to kiss me and I leaned down to kiss her, and we connected. She was officially going to be mine and I hers. When she kissed me again it was more passionate.

Her tongue brushed my bottom lip. I pulled her closer to me by holding on to her hips and moving her towards me leaving no space between us. She placed her hands on the back of my neck. We pulled apart for air and she nuzzled her nose against my neck inhaling softly. She then kissed my collarbone. I couldn't wait any longer. I moved us to our bedroom down the hall. She was beautiful. It was okay that there was a small amount of light in the room. I didn't need it. I knew Santana's body just like she knew mine. We somehow ended up tripping over discarded clothes and landing on the bed; Santana on top of me. She moved down my body kissing every inch of visible skin (which by now was a lot). It's so mean to tease right now. She looks up at me for a second. Her brown eyes were darker than usual. Her breasts were pressed against mine creating lovely friction. I put my hands on her thighs and flipped us over. I heard her giggle. I smirked at her before caressing her hip with my right hand as I leaned down for another kiss. I was seeing the stars I had missed when I was looking down. Her hair was fanned out over the mattress as she lay on her back.

"San, you're so beautiful."

She pulled me closer to her.

"Not as beautiful as you, Britt."

Before I could protest she kissed me again. I moaned against her mouth. Santana tasted so sweet. Her hands were so gentle.

_The rest of the night was perfect. It was everything you promised me. It wasn't the first time, but it felt like the first time. These are the moment I'll never forget. These are 'our' moments. In these moments everything goes away and it's just the way it's suppose to be. Just you and me. _


	10. Chapter 10

**One week later**

**Chapter 10 **

**New York City **

**Quinn's pov **

_New York City. The city that never sleeps. Why is that New York? Is your insomnia as bad as mine? Do you to dread sleep because you no longer dream? Does Angie Brooks feel the same? _

It was a cold Monday night in the city. Very few people roamed the streets at this time of night. The only people who were still up were those who were working late, or people like me who just can't sleep. Most Monday nights I stay home, read a book, and think myself into oblivion. It was a simple routine I had achieved for myself when dealing with the long nocturnal time of the day. But this night is different. This Monday night will be more exciting than reading To Kill A Mockingbird, Shakespeare, or whatever else is laying on my bookshelf back in New Haven.

_What is it New York that keeps you up?_

I'm laying down in the back seat of a car. My back is pressed against the car floor as I remain unmoving and vigilant. I'm completely incognito from any ones eyes and ears. My presence might as well have been that of a ghost. The car was currently parked on the curb of a street. I heard several voices before they slowly descended into silence again. I waited patiently keeping my senses keen.

_The sight of the car's roof, the sound of a deserted street, the smell of too much leather, the comfortable feeling of the garrote wire in my hands, and the distant taste of satisfaction. My senses have never been keener than they were in this exact moment. _

I felt the vehicle come to life as its' owner unlocked it from a distance making it honk in a grating way. I remained still as I heard shallow footsteps approach the car. The clicking of heels against the cement pavement outside created an almost pleasing rhythm. I held the wire in my hands delicately before rolling the ends of it against my fingers cutting my own blood circulation. I tugged each end of the cable in the opposite direction to test its durability.

The door opened gently causing a cool breeze to enter the car. The weight of someone settling in the front seat was made apparent as they sat down and slammed the car door beside them. The girl relaxed against the soft leather cushion as she tossed the purse she held in her hand across her shoulder to the back seat.

_I'm not sure how you find sleep New York, but I know how I find mine._

I took a long deep breath before sitting up and throwing the wire over the headrest and pulling back tightly. My fingers looked pale from a lack of blood flowing through them as they created the main leverage towards the cable. There was a struggle for air. A cough and gag as the garrote wire slowly, but surely cuts off the oxygen leading to the lungs and brain. There was a series of different movements as the girl pulled her hands to her neck and tugged her body forward before finally going limp. I loosened my hold on the wire. The girls' perfume engulfed my nostrils as I released the cable from her neck. I held on to the girls' forehead to prevent her from slamming it into the steering wheel.

I slowly leaned her head back against the cushioned headrest before getting out of the car. I was able to push her body over to the passenger seat as I sat in the driver's seat. I checked my rearview mirror making sure no one witnessed the exchange that just took place. I turned the key that was already placed in the ignition making the sedan purr to life. I reached behind me to grab the purse that she had tossed over her shoulder. I looked through its contents to try to find a cell phone or anything that could track her location. When I found the phone I drove up the street and tossed it out the window. I was wearing gloves so I wasn't worried about leaving evidence. This car was new. It probably also had a tracking device that would detect its location if it were ever stolen.

_I'm going to be on a tight schedule tonight. _

I drove to the abandoned building which wasn't even remotely close to the neighborhood that we just drove away from.

_If I could organize this properly I won't have to worry about anyone tracking the car. No one will realize that Brooks is missing until tomorrow morning when she doesn't show up to work. If I use my time wisely I can drop her off at the building, get the deed done, and park the car somewhere that won't create a mass of suspicion. Then I can come back and clean up the rest of the evidence and find a morning boarding pass back to New Haven. _

When I pulled up to the edifice I parked the car and wasted no time in lifting the girl from the sedan and into the building. I supported her weight by placing my forearms below her underarms causing her to drag her feet against the floor as I supported her upper body. This was the only real way to move a lump of mass from place to place without breaking your back.

She was light so it didn't take a lot of effort to place her against the reclining metal chair and strap in her arms and legs. I placed a suite of plastic over her body covering every inch of her form except for her head to avoid suffocation. It would take a couple of more minutes before she regained consciousness. I walked over to the loose floorboard a few feet away. I took out my tools and placed them one by one along side the table that rested next to the metal chair.

I grabbed a set of clean gloves and put them on. I looked at the girl. She was still unconscious. It was like watching someone sleep. But I knew there was a feeling of dread rolling in the back of her head that made this far from a comfortable slumber. A turmoil that lives deep in the mind and eats away at the soul like a parasite.

_The rabbit can only escape death once before the fox catches it. _

She slowly starts to move her head. Her eyelids flutter open. Her breathing, once even, now grew more and more rapid as she felt the restrictions on her hands and legs.

_And the fox is never really gentle. _

She looked at me her eyes wide. In this moment I no longer envied 'normal' people. I don't have to feel her pulse to recognize what makes her so tense. I don't have to question her because I know what's making her sit so still. It's this moment alone that I feel grateful that I can never truly experience the agony of fear.

_Normal individuals fear, and it's usually because of people like me. But people only fear me because they believe that I take the bad characters in their childhood story books, and make them come to life. I make their nightmares escape the confines of their minds and present it to them in real time. Showing them who the real monster is. _

"Hello, Miss. Brooks."

_And so…the rabbit screams. _

**Authors Note:**

**Hey guys, first of all, I just wanted to ****personally thank all of you for being awesome! Seriously you guys thanks for the reviews, favorites, and simply for having enough faith in me to follow the story hahaha. It really means the world to me so thank you. **

**I also wanted to add that I might not be uploading for a while because something has turned up and it might make my time for writing very constricted, but I promise to continue the story.**

**So I guess that's it for now haha just continue to be awesome people and I guess I'll see you when I do. **

**-N.S ****  
**

**P.S: ****Sorry if you guys were expecting a responds to your reviews I wasn't sure if I should respond or not because I'm new to writing fanfic and to this particular website so I don't know if it would have been creepy or not lol but just know that I've read and appreciated all your guys comments. I think it's great that you guys give feedback so feel free to review whenever you want.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Four days later**

**Quinn's pov **

_It just doesn't look right! How can it look so oblique? I should just move it one more time. _

I walked over to the vase placed on my dining room table. I turned it slightly to the right. I moved away eyeing it from a distance. I moved around the room seeing the vase at different angles.

_How the hell is it still not symmetrical with everything else? It's the table isn't it? It could be the walls in the room. Maybe everything is too close together. _

I looked around the coffee colored room. It was a small apartment, but I've always enjoyed it.

_Well, that was until I realized that it doesn't make this vase look right. _

I heard a hollow knock at the door.

_Crap. I should just toss the vase out the window. _

I thought against it as I heard another knock on the door. I flattened the front of my dress with my hands and fixed my hair. I walked over to the door and unlocked it. I took a couple of deep breaths before opening the door completely and revealing the person behind it.

My breath hitched in my throat as I saw her. She was gorgeous. The red dress she was wearing embraced her figure dreamily. It wasn't a formal dinner, but I could always count on Rachel Berry to dress exquisitely for any and every occasion.

"There you are. For a second I thought I got the wrong apartment building." She laughed inwardly as she hugged me and kissed my cheek.

"Sorry, I was just fixing something." I apologized as I invited her in.

"I can take that for you," I indicated at the wine bottle in her hands.

She didn't move. Her eyes were roaming over everything in sight.

I cleared my throat gently. "Rachel?"

"Oh, sorry. It's just your apartment looks…in my head I pictured something completely different."

I had worked all week to make my apartment look presentable for Rachel's visit. I had dusted the bookshelves and vacuumed the rug. I changed all the light-blubs in the house to make each and everyone identical to each other (no one, was brighter than the other). Every painting, picture, and frame was straight. The pillows on the dining room couch were placed in a perfect pattern. I even bought a vase.

"I hope I didn't disappoint."

Of course I was worried that Rachel wouldn't like my place. Rachel Berry was the type of girl that you had to fight for. She wasn't someone who settled. Her affection had to be won. Nothing was simply given when it came to a girl like Rachel Berry. Maybe it's because she wasn't 'a girl', but 'the girl'. My heart jumped a little in my chest.

"I love it. In fact, how much do you want for it," she joked.

I smiled feeling accomplished.

_She liked it. I knew fixing the lighting would make a difference. She didn't even notice the vase. _

"Why don't we decide a price over dinner?"

She laughed and smiled brightly at me. "That sounds great. Lead the way, Miss Fabray."

I sat her at the dining table while I retrieved the tossed salad I had prepared from the kitchen.

The conversation between us flowed artlessly. It was so natural being around Rachel. I felt like I didn't have to remember my 'rules' around her. I didn't have to rehearse our conversations. Her company was the only type of company that I enjoyed. I didn't have to over-think everything. I could just be.

"So, are we ready for the main dish," I asked her as she wiped her mouth with the napkin that was previously resting on her lap.

"Yes, we are. I've been dying to know what you cooked since I walked in the door. It's smells so good."

I smiled at her before I went back into the kitchen to get the dish out of the oven. I held it in my hands carefully as I carried it out to the table. I set it in the center of the table and removed the lid off the glass pot. Steam rose from the pot giving off a delicious aroma. Rachel's eyes never left me as I served each of us a piece of meat (tofu) and opened the wine bottle using a cork. The tofu was cooked and prepared to look like a six-ounce steak.

"I cooked us some grilled veggie tofu stack with balsamic and mint," I said as I poured some wine into each of our glasses.

"Wow Quinn, this is impressive. Does Gordon Ramsay live in your kitchen?"

_Things to do tomorrow…buy milk, finish report, and Goggle Gordon Ramsay._

I don't think I've ever doubted my cooking skills until tonight. I could hear my heart beat in my ears as she cut a piece of her tofu and placed it in her mouth. I was observing her every bite.

_What if she doesn't like it? I didn't cook anything else. We could always go down the street to that Italian restaurant Dr. Ralls use to eat at. What if their not vegan friendly? It would be insensitive to take her to a non-vegan friendly restaurant. _

I was making myself anxious. I drowned down my glass of wine trying to calm my nerves. Rachel's eyes closed as she chewed on the tofu. And she…moaned?

"Oh my god. This is so good. It taste so real," she said as she cut another piece.

"You like it?"

She laughed, "Yes, I actually want to know the recipe to this. I didn't know you could cook, Quinn. When did you learn," she asked taking another bite.

_About the same time my professor was training me to become a serial killer. _

"Well you know, you pick up things here and there," I told her as I refilled my glass.

"Hmm, you need to teach me sometime."

"Sure, I can teach you how to make homemade ice-cream."

She laughed to herself as she took another bite of the grilled vegan meat. It wasn't actually grilled though. I roasted it in the oven, because I didn't have anywhere to grill it so you can imagine my surprise when it actually came out decent.

The rest of the dinner went by smoothly. We made more conversation and Rachel told me about being an understudy for a Broadway show. When she asked me what I wanted to do I told her that I was trying to finish my masters degree and receive my doctrines within the next four or five years. By now we continued our conversation on my couch with the wine bottle in between us. I turned on the cheap TV that I had in my dining room and it now played in the background of our conversation. Rachel had taken off her shoes and was now lying down comfortably with her legs on my lap.

"That's a lot of school, Quinn. Do you ever get bored of it? Psychology , I mean."

"Never," I answered truthfully.

"I've never found something so…addicting before."

She looked at me. Her eyes were staring at me different. She was staring at me like that night at the hotel in New York. She looked lost. Spellbound. She turned away and looked at the TV. We were watching a late night talk show. I looked at the wine in my glass.

_Red. Red like the blood in our veins. Red like the color of the rug I'm stepping on. Red like the dress she's wearing. _

"I lied," I said suddenly.

It was an act of impulsivity. Something I never really learned to control.

She looked at me confused her head turning to the side slightly.

"About," she questioned.

The pounding in my ears was present again. My ribcage expanded rapidly with every little breath I took. I cleared my throat trying to regain composer.

"Quinn are you okay? You don't look too good," she said sitting up and getting closer to me.

_No! Don't get too close! If you want me to get better you have to move away. _

"I found something before phycology," I blurted out. "The only other thing that racks my brain at three o'clock in the morning, or makes me have a terrible case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder for a week, and makes me look at a vase for a hour because for some reason it's just not straight enough. And that's…. it's crazy. But it's so unlike anything else, or anyone else, I should say."

"It's…the only other thing is you," I confessed.

_You're the only other thing I obsessive over. Sometimes my heart rate is so low that it's difficult to distinguish if its even there. Rachel changes that for me. She's a constant reminder that I'm really here that this is really real. _

She looked at me shocked. She was still sitting up until she moved her legs off my lap and sat next to me to get closer and kissed me. My eyes closed. She leaned into me her body pressed against mine making me lean further back into the couch cushions. My hand caressed her cheek. We broke apart for air. But I wasn't there with her. In the back of my head I was thinking that I should not act.

_Rule two. Think before you do. _

But I couldn't help it. The battle for impulsivity or rationality had rested. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to fight. I just wanted to be. So I let go. I kissed her again. This time with more force. She was still pinning me down against the couch and I didn't mind. I grabbed her waist and held her closer. The intensity of this feeling was so right.

_Just like that night in New York._

But this was different. There was more acknowledgment. We both knew we couldn't blow this off as a one-night stand. It was so much more. We pulled away for air after what seemed like a lifetime. Rachel's face was flushed leaving a light tint of pink on her cheeks. She was a little out of breath. My heart was pounding. I put my hand over my chest. I could feel it beat against my palm.

_It feels good to be alive. _

"Quinn?"

I looked up at her.

"Yeah?"

"I changed out of this dress four times before choosing to wear it tonight," she said before looking down at her lap and blushing.

_I'm not sure what to say. _

"I'm glad you picked it. You look beautiful, Rachel."

She chuckled staring down at her hands before looking up at me.

"I was trying to tell you that I too had a manic Obsessive Compulsive episode like you. I wanted to look good for you tonight," she said to me.

I grabbed her hand and held on to her wrist. Her plus was beating just as fast as mine. I brought her palm to my lips and kissed it. She moved her hand to cup my cheek, and I leaned into it. We stared at each other for a long time in comfortable silence. The only sound that could be heard was the TV in the background.

"I really don't want to go home tomorrow," she whispered.

"You don't have to go." I countered just as silently.

"But I have to go back for something…for someone."

For a moment I had forgotten that this was reality and in reality we can't always get what we want. The original plan was that Rachel would make a train trip from New York to New Haven to visit my apartment (since I had seen hers plenty of times in the course of a month). We would have dinner, drink wine, and she would spend the night leaving the next morning, but now reality had fucked me over. There's really no other way to put it.

It made me believe that I could have two things instead of one. Over the course of a month, since the hotel incident, Rachel and I had become 'friends'. The hotel thing was blown off as just a couple of friends having a good time on a Friday night after coming home from a club. Now it got complicated, but I can also say it got clearer. In a way she wanted me like I wanted her.

_I'm intrigued by her inner brightness. After all she is a star. But what did I have to do to make her my star? The one thing that shines a light in my never-ending dreamless hell. The one spark of light that brings me back from the dark grave I dug up for myself. Yes I'm comfortable with the dark waters that occupy my mind, but that's only because I'm accustomed to them. She makes it different. _

_As my mother said when I was a child, "The stars at night make the night times bright." _

_And yes just like the stars in the sky light up the darkness of a night, she lights up the darkness in my mind. In my heart (if I have one). _

"Do you love him…or her?" I questioned in a hushed tone.

"Yes, 'he' is very special to me."

She looked down at her hand as she removed it from my face and placed it on her lap. She looked remorseful.

_Rachel Berry was the type of girl that you had to fight for. She wasn't someone who settled. Her affection had to be won. Nothing was simply given when it came to a girl like Rachel Berry. Maybe it's because she wasn't 'a girl', but 'the girl'. _

"We've still got tonight."

She looked up at me. Her brown orbs met my gaze and she smiled almost gratefully at me. I realize now that the kiss was simply something that a girl like Rachel Berry would give to someone like me out of pity. As dreams are once dreamt, and reality forcefully given I am reminded of the odd domain that we live in. Where everything must be one or the other. Where no one can see the flourishing of multi-colored pigments. Where science and religion correspond, yet disagree. Where Rachel Berry jilts me for an unknown boy.

_But it's true. We still had tonight. One more night with her is another night of brightness. After years of nothing it's good to find something, anything, that makes you feel, and I don't think I can give that up so easily. _

She hugged me gently. Her hand pressed against my back as my head rested on her shoulder.

"Thank you, for understanding, Quinn," she sighed.

_According to Webster's Pocket Dictionary to 'understand' something meant to "grasp the meaning of something". Perhaps I would be able to understand things better if the meaning of the matter were taken out of contents. Maybe if the variables in the equation were different I would be able to grasp the knowledge Rachel was willing to give me. Maybe then things would be worth 'understanding'. But for once I don't want to understand. _

"We're friends, Rachel. Of course I would understand."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Sophomore year **

**Lima, Ohio (age: 16)**

**Santana's pov **

Chemistry was torture. The complexity of letters and numbers mixed in with scientific notations to determine the nature of chemicals was just horrible. If it wasn't hard enough to distinguish PEMDAS when doing algebra then how did they expect us to figure out how something can explode via kinetic energy? It was of unfortunate events that Chemistry happened to be the only class me and Brittany had together. I could never dismiss Brittany's presence as anything other than a blessing, and that turned out to be the problem. Since I didn't see Brittany all day, except in lunch and in Chemistry, I tried to keep up with her during lessons.

_It not your fault if you'd rather hear about Brittany's day than listen to Mr. Taft talk about converting things into mathematical equations. _

When I got back my report card, which showed my grades for the first quarter of the school year, I was shocked. I was absolutely stunned into silence as I saw the **D+** sit lazily next to the subject name **Chemistry**. It was written in small lettering and bold black ink making it discreet, yet obvious. As if it couldn't get any worse they managed to put a plus sign next to it, as if saying, "your efforts weren't good enough for a C, but they're definitely noticed by the staff and administration". The report card was undoubtedly mine, because I knew that I was the only one in my grade level who was taking Spanish III.

To say that my parents were unhappy about me failing Chemistry was an understatement.

"Santana, how could you be failing Chemistry when you're so good with numbers," my mother chastised.

"The class is so boring, I sit in the back so I can't see the board, and the teacher doesn't explain it all that well," I influenced to my parents. The excuses escaped my mouth like I had rehearsed them in my head.

My father shook his head. "If you needed a tutor you could have asked, Santana. And I'm sure you could move to the front of class if you ask your teacher to change his sitting arrangement. You didn't have to ruin your grade point average. Your gonna have to work ten times harder to pick this grade up," he said sternly.

My father was my hero. He was the perfect model of wisdom and poise in my eyes. I looked up to him because he was the only person I knew that did everything for the people that he loved and expected nothing in return. I didn't want to upset him over a failing Chemistry grade.

"I know. I'll start working on picking up the grade right now," I told him truthfully as I got up from the dining room couch.

He looked at me with his dark eyes. My father had a really stern look to him. He usually was demanding and firm with people, but that never included me. He never really had to be grim with me because I never really wanted to disappoint my father so I never really broke any of his rules.

"Santana, education is important. It's much more than just the key to successful career. Without education there is no hope for a brighter future, not just for yourself, but for the people around you. Without knowledge we'll continue to live in an ignorant world."

"In fact the only reason why we continue to live in an ignorant world is because education is so significant, so powerful, that some people have decided to make it a privilege rather than a necessity. If everyone had the knowledge of things the way that you have it maybe the world would be a nobler place to live in. Education has become a weapon in it's own way. Not a violent weapon, but a weapon that should be feared only by those who wish to keep someone compliant.

Some people believe that the less people know of something the better. The less knowledge the people occupy themselves the more faith they will have to put in their leaders, governments, you name it.

In a way knowledge, or rather education, is being kept from people to restrict them of the freedom that every man and women should have. Because just imagine a world where everyone had the equality to pursuit his or her own happiness.

If you don't believe me just look in your history book. Education alone has diminished many tyrants in the past. If it wasn't for Abraham Lincoln and his advanced knowledge to witness slavery as an unmoral conduct were would this country be right now.

Of course it wasn't just Lincoln there was also Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Albert Einstein, the list could go on. But do you honestly believe that these people stressed the importance of dealing with peoples problems with their fist or with their minds. They proved to us that with the right amount of knowledge, and with the right amount of courage to use that knowledge for good, we can change the world."

You see Santana; it's not the little things that education can offer, but the big things. Education can set us all free. It's just the mindset that you deiced to have on it. That goes for everything really."

_A world where everyone had the equality to pursuit his or her own happiness. _

Sometimes I wonder if what I'm doing is ever really good enough compared to my father. It seems like he's seen and done everything with grace and consciousness, but now I realized that all he really did was receive knowledge. Knowledge about the world, knowledge about people, and knowledge about himself. Maybe the old man is right. Maybe knowing a little more can set you free.

Sure enough by the end of the fall semester I had picked up my chemistry grade from a D+to an A. I even managed to understand it so well that I was able to tutor Brittany and she got a B on her report card.

Brittany's parents were overjoyed that I was able to help her pass Chemistry; they even asked me if I wanted to go to Colorado with them during the winter break. Brittany said yes for me (not that I minded). The break went by faster then I expected. One minute Brittany and I were making snow angels in Colorado, and the next I was droopy eyed walking down the halls of William McKinley High once again.

When school started up again the last thing I wanted to do was be called into Coach Sylvester's office.

"There she is," Sue Sylvester said as I came in through her office door and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. She was writing something down on her note pad before making an effort to look up at me.

"Well sit down Lopez we don't have all day."

I sat down in the nearest chair to me. I looked around the room and saw the different pictures of all the cheerios and their trophies but something was off.

"Listen Lopez, because this school lacks so much leadership I'm going to give you the opportunity of a life time."

The woman was the devil in a tracksuit. I didn't trust her. But I was able to hear compromise.

"You see it has come to my attention that my, now late, head cheerio will not be attending McKinley for the remainder of the school year. This leaves me without a head cheerio, which leaves me without order, and that leaves us with no championship. So I promote you to head cheerio. Congratulations, Lopez."

She removed her gaze from me and continued to scribble something down on her note pad. I was in shock. Not because Coach Sylvester was being semi-nice, or because I had just made head cheerio (which I've been dying to do since last year), but because Quinn was apparently gone.

"Lopez! You can leave now," Coach barked harshly as her cold blue eyes stared me down.

I nodded. I got up to leave the room and noticed what was so off putting before when I first walked in. I looked around at the pictures and trophies and finally noticed it. Quinn was nowhere to be found. Not one picture. Not one of her trophies. Not anything. The room had been completely removed of the proof or memory of Quinn Fabray's existence.

I ran down the hall to Brittany's locker (she usually waited for me by her locker in the morning so I figured she'd be there). As I came closer to her I saw her leaning against a wall as she looked out into space.

"Britt!"

At the call of her name she turned around to face me. She smiled brightly at me as I jogged towards her.

"Britt, I made head cheerio!" I told her excitedly.

She looked stunned. She didn't move until I hugged her pushing her body away from the red colored wall and on to me. She hugged me back tightly.

"San, I'm so happy for you," she said gently.

"What's gonna happen to Quinn though?"

In my excitement I forgot to announce the biggest news to her.

"That's another thing Britt, Quinn left. She left for the rest of the school year. That's how I got to be head cheerio. God! She left it right open for me! Can you believe that?!"

I linked pinkies with Brittany as she looked down at me. She was a bit confused I could tell by the way her forehead creased and nose wrinkled.

"Quinn's gone," she questioned lightly.

I nodded my head, "Yeah, that's what coach said. There were no pictures of Quinn in her office. No trophies. Nothing."

"Wow. I wonder what happened."

"It doesn't even matter anymore. You and I will no longer have to deal with anyone's shit. This is perfect if you really think about it," I said sounding smug.

She smiled at me.

"I'm really happy that you're happy, San."

"I couldn't have done this without you, Britt. You're my main motivation. Everything I do is usually always because of you," I told her truthfully.

As she smiled and squeezed my pinkie with hers I relaxed. It dawned on me that she was going to be okay and so was I. No more looking behind our backs, no more trying to keep up with stupid appearances. It was really the time to take a breather and enjoy the moment.

"I really think we should celebrate afterschool," she said.

"Yeah, we should. Anything specific you want to do? It's on me."

"We should totally go skiing like in Colorado," she said excitedly.

I chuckled at her. "Maybe we should do something a little less extreme and closer to home."

"Do you want to watch Finding Nemo again?"

"Finding Nemo it is."

**Seven years later: New York City**

**Quinn's pov **

**(Third year grad student, Age: 24)**

"Please! Please don't do it! I'll give you anything you want! I have money. I can get you money!"

I turned to him. They always say that they'll give me anything I want. I looked down at the watch that rested perfectly against my wrist. It had been a present from my parents when I was younger. I 'redecorated' it a couple of weeks ago and attached a garrote string to it. I used it tonight on Jason Wright and it worked perfectly. If it hadn't he wouldn't be sitting on my metal chair of judgment completely helpless begging for his life.

I extended my arm giving him a perfect view of the watch. It was gold and had seven carrots embedded into it.

"Does it really look like I need money?" his face was that of pure agony as the realization of the situation hit him.

I wasn't sure why, but I was delaying the process tonight. He had woken up an hour ago and I still hadn't proceeded with my technics. I really wasn't here tonight. My body was physically here with him in the abandoned building, but my mind was wondering to another place. I was pacing around the room while he screamed at me from the chair. I tuned him out. I wasn't up for the whole thing tonight if anything I just wanted to end this.

"Please! I swear I never do it again," he cried.

When the words left his lips I stopped pacing. My feet stopped moving, but my mind started working.

"What?"

"Please," he mumbled incoherently.

His tear-streaked face was red and looked swollen. He had snot running down his nose and onto his neck and chin. Sweat fell in droplets down his forehead and on to his cheeks. But what he said had made the wheels in my head turn.

My pulse started to beat a bit faster as I looked at the man. He was repulsive. His crime was the worst of all. Taking something that doesn't belong to you, that wasn't given to you. He was a thief. But he isn't satisfied with robbing banks, or stealing wallets. No. He had to steal the one thing that can't be given back, the one thing that can't be replaced.

_I'll give him hope. _

"Okay."

He looked up at me. His red face looked disordered as he continued to cry.

_I'll torture him with the one thing that he wants the most._

"I'll let you go," I said honestly.

He stopped crying and resumed again when the proposition left my lips, but this time he was crying to show his gratitude.

_I'll give him what he wants only to rip it away from him. It's perfect. Pure psychological torture._

"I'll let you go if you can make it out of here without properly functioning kneecaps."

He looked up at me. He had a look of shock on his face. I grabbed the hammer that was placed on the table next to me. He looked at the hammer and me franticly. He started to plea again.

"No! Please!"

I walked over to him and grabbed his head shoving it roughly against the headrest. My anger was getting the best of me.

"Shut up and listen. You have two options to choose from. I kill you like I originally planned, or you can crawl out of here. Once you leave I won't chase you. I won't look for you. You're free."

He shook with every sob that escaped his lips. I still had my hand pressed harshly against his head probably making every little movement of his uncomfortable. His chest heaved with every cry, with every plea.

"God! Just don't…I can't…I don't," he chanted unintelligibly.

I slammed his head down on the chair again.

"Hey! Come on! I don't have all day. If you don't choose I'll choose for you," I said seriously.

He turned away from me and muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I choose the first one," he said a little louder.

I let his answer sink in. It really was unfortunate for him that I had to kill him the night I felt bored and wanted to experiment. I let go of his head and walked over to the front of the chair. He still didn't look at me and I preferred it that way. I raised the hammer in my hand and aimed it directly at his kneecap, but right before it made contact I felt the need to tell him something.

"I forgot to mention that I'm only giving you a minute to make it out of here. If you're still in the building at the end of sixty seconds I'll drag you back here and finish you off."

"Just thought you should know," I said before slamming the hammer against his left kneecap.

A gut wrenching cry erupted from the man and filled the empty room. He couldn't move away form the hammer because of the restrictions on his hands and legs. He cried again. Not for grieve, or gratitude, but simply because of the pain he was feeling with each blow that the hammer caused against his fragile bones. He begged for the second option towards the end, but it was too late. All decisions to me were made final.

And that's all I wanted it. I wanted him to beg for death. To beg for the only thing he truly deserved. It was my own method of reverse psychology. Sixty seconds wasn't an abundant amount of time to me. With every one second my heartbeat would throb three times in a gracefully, but grotesque pattern.

_That's the thing about time. It could be so short to me, but so long to someone like him. The mind makes us think that way. It tricks us into believing the unbelievable. It makes us jump in our seats when we watch scary movies and leaves us paranoid when the movie is over. It tends to make us see things that just aren't there. It focuses on the obvious when it should be emphasizing the obscure. It's supposed to work in my favor, but instead it acts like a disservice to me when I need it the most. _

_That's what his mind is doing to him now. Being a disservice. He could have let me kill him and all of this would have been quicker. Instead his mind made him believe that he could achieve the impossible in sixty seconds. His mind is as devious as me. All it really did was prolong the agony of death. _

However, even in a situation like this my head was still not clear. Not as clear as it should be. Not as clear as it usually was. I knew what was making me distant. I knew why I felt far away. The very thought of it made me feel despondent. Tonight was supposed to be the night that I didn't think about her, but I couldn't help it. That's all I can think about. It's all I've been able to think about for the last week. It may be irresponsible to take out my personal frustration on the man in front of me, but if you think about it he did the same to someone else.

_An eye for an eye. _

Sixty soon descended into zero, and I knew it was time to give him the advice that he would most certainly consider as he takes it to his grave.

"Hope, Mr. Wright, is a funny thing. It was all you had left in a situation like this and I took it from you," I said to him lowly.

"I took it simply because you took something from someone else. Something that wasn't yours to take. Something that you can't give back. However, now you have been robbed of something just as precious. Perhaps this makes you even with whatever higher power exists in the world, but if it doesn't just be happy to have gained such an important life lesson. Consider this a gift more than anything you degenerate piece of filth."

The train trip back to New Haven was peaceful. The vibration of the train made me feel drowsy. I laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. Sleep. What a gift. I slowly drifted off to a comfortable unconscious form. When I woke up I realized that I was in New Haven. I also realized that I was in a daze-like state. It was the after effects of waking up from a dream. My dream.

_It's not very clear now. Why can't I remember the whole thing? I remember being with someone. Being with her. We were together. Where? I'm not sure. Dreaming was a delightful mixture of wonderment and confusion. I wanted to experience it again. It felt so real. It looked so real. The colors at times might have made things a bit abstract, but it still painted a clear picture. _

_Dreaming was like a wish come true. Like little desires made possible. It was like reality, but with odd shapes and noises mixed in with a charming assortment of colors. I can't help but hope Dr. Ralls was right. I hoped dreams were intended for 'forever' and never went away. They were so lovely, so synchronizing. It feels like a sin to have gone on this far without one. _

"_Dreams are forever. They never go away. Even when we're awake we're still dreaming." _


End file.
